#their shower drain is a fucking nightmare i just know it

[on-a-lucky-tide]

In the shower after Nikolai dominates Price in the ring. Here is Part 1.

cw: dom Nik and sub Price, choking (properly this time), frotting, handjob, brief oral, captain’s first subspace; there are no safe words here nor clear cut negotiation. It’s as messy as the two men involved. @jgvfhl has been waiting patiently, so cheers, bud! (Also @aprilplage and @27potatochips were interested? Apologies if not.)

Price stood under the hot shower with his hands on the cool tiles and his head bowed. He tried to focus on the sensation of the water running over his skin, the faint smell of bleach that lingered in the air, the thrum of the old boiler working over time, anything to ground him. His prick ached, standing erect and untouched, and he stared at it with lidded eyes, the flushed skin blurred through the steam and droplets of water on his lashes.

He's never felt like this before. It was like he was floating just outside his body, and yet, somehow, every part of him was sensitive, primed. The world had soft edges, muted almost, but he could tune into a single droplet of water tracking down his spine. He knew it was connected to what had happened in the ring - had felt it descending while he knelt at Nik’s feet - but it was… alien. He felt vulnerable, like he was balancing on a precipice and he could tumble over if he lost focus for even a second, and it… it fucking frightened him, and Price wasn’t accustomed to fear.

This was a bloody nightmare. How could he want such things? Why did the thought of such a violent loss of control not make him balk? He was an officer, decorated, meant to be the best, this was a fuckin’ disgrace, this–

A large shadow loomed behind him. He felt its presence before he heard the footfalls of the man it belonged to splash into the pools of water around the drain, scent gathering in the whirls of steam around his face. He didn't turn - couldn't turn - to reveal his predicament, but that didn't matter. The shadow came to him, a big hand settling cautiously on his hip, Nik's musky cologne distinct to Price’s sensitive nose.

Price didn't pull away. Nik's fingertips sent sparks skittering over his skin, and Price dropped his chin to inspect those weatherbeaten fingers as they gently traced a small scar that curled over his hip bone. In that moment, they were the center of his entire universe.

“Tell me no,” Nik said in a low timber that shot straight to Price's groin. The word should have fallen out of his mouth easily, and he knew Nik would respect it. But Price said nothing, his head bowing further between his shoulders as Nik stepped closer. That hand drifted to Price’s stomach, nails raking through the soft trail of hair around his belly button just as warm lips pressed to slant of muscle sweeping down from Price’s neck. “Tell me no, John.”

There was still a tiny distance between Nik’s body and his. Price could feel the brush of damp hair against his back, knowing Nikolai’s impressive chest pinned him made his mouth water, the whisper of something big against the curves of his arse, and every muscle fiber, every inch of skin, tingled with the need to feel it all. At first, he resisted, holding fast, his fingers curling into his palms. Nik didn't push, only stroked that small area just below where his belt should sit; intimate, never easily accessed, and Price thought he might crack in half if he didn't feel the whole of Nik against him in the next thirty seconds.

Price pressed his knuckles into the tiles and arched his body back a little further, moaning softly when he met the resistance of Nik’s body; the immovable bulwark that had forced Price to the ground and ripped his control away, arm at his throat, strong legs pinning his hips. Nik flattened the hand on Price’s belly and held him there, the thick heft of his cock against the cleft of Price's backside, unashamed of his arousal. He opened his mouth to suck a deeper kiss into Price's neck, and stroked up Price’s torso to cup his chest. “I know what you need,” Nik whispered against Price's skin, “but you need to be good for me. You need to relax.”

Price was pulled taut, his back rigid, his arms firm. A gulf yawned out before him and Nik was asking him to fall into it, trusting that his arms would be there to catch him. Price let out a shaky breath, his chest burning from where he'd been holding it, and slowly tilted his head back to Nik's shoulder. The water hit his face and his eyes blinked furiously into the spray, resisting the urge to close because that was the next step, wasn't it? Closing his eyes surrendered his link to the world to Nik’s care.

Nik turned his face into the bristles of Price's beard and nuzzled with a contented hum. He stroked a nipple between finger and thumb, a soft touch that still made it harden with pleasure, sending sparks through Price’s chest, his knees shaking. “Ty kraséevyi…” Nik murmured breathlessly, relishing the responsiveness of Price's body to his touch. “So eager.”

“Nik, please.” Price didn't mean for it to sound like a sob, but it did and he clenched his teeth with the shame of it, his quivering cock no less desperate as it curved upwards, drooling.

Nik followed the contour of Price’s chest and collarbone to his throat, teasing his bobbing Adam's apple before his palm flattened. His thumb and fingers pressed into the soft skin beneath the hinge of Price’s jaw and squeezed. Price let out a soft, choked moan, his eyes rolling back as his body throbbed with relief and euphoria.

It wasn’t the same chokehold as on the mat, a ruthless crushing of the windpipe to cause as much damage as possible, but he still felt the soreness there and it only added to the descent. If his mind had been clear Price might have identified the reason for the lightheadedness, the rush, as a restriction of his carotid artery, but all he could think about was how easily Nik could snap his neck. How little effort it would take for that huge palm to clamp down and Price's consciousness - his life - to slip away if Nik willed it. He had worked with Nik for so many years, knew what he was capable of, and the sick thrill of it made Price feel weak.

“Beautiful,” Nik repeated in English this time, his voice deep and husky at Price's ear, “the way you want to give yourself to me like this.”

Price growled. Or tried to. It started deep in his chest and ended in a choked gasp as Nik tightened his grip on his throat enough to make stars glitter behind his eyelids. Putting him squarely back in his place. The noise that punched out his chest was more snarl than moan, but Nik sounded delighted. “Or do you wish to fight me again? You want me to take ownership of you, tame you like an animal, captain?”

The hand that had steadied Price at his belly now slid lower, over his thigh and then up the inside to cup his sac in the seat of his palm. Price felt more vulnerable like this, Nik’s big hands cradling the most vulnerable parts of him, than if he had a gun pressed to his temple. His limbs were glued in place, rigid with obedience and desperation, paralysed by Nik’s touch and the silky rumble of his voice.

“But I think you would prefer me to take, no?” Nik licked and bit at Price’s ear, then trailed down the edge of his jaw through his beard. Price's fingers gripped at the tiles, nails digging into the grout, meek little noises escaping his throat as his prick drooled precum over the back of Nik’s wrist. Nik played with his balls, squeezing, tugging, and then let them slide along the top of his thick shaft as he slid it between Price's thighs. “Legs together, captain.”

Price did as he was told. Limbs that had been leaden suddenly inspired into action by Nik's command. He clamped around the hard length of Nik’s cock, the velvet soft skin of it bloody beautiful against his inner thighs. Nik groaned, nuzzling his face into Price's wet hair as he rocked back and forth, shifting his prick only a few inches at a time. “Mm, ya vsyu zhizn' zhdala tebya…”

“Nik, fuck… N-Ni–ah…” Price felt the pressure against his taint, nudging beneath his balls, and then Nik’s big palm wrapped his cock, stroking in time with the slow roll of his hips. The friction walked the fine line of too much, but this wasn't entirely about pleasure. It was about ownership, just like Nik had promised. Nik was using Price's body as he wanted, choking it, restraining it, pleasuring it and taking pleasure from it. Price had no choice but to obey.

“I know you want more,” Nik said, his voice thick and low with lust. “But I will use your hole in private, where I can… mm, where I can take my time with you, where.. ahh, good boy… where no one can interrupt.”

Price panted, whimpered, subdued by the large hand at his throat, intoxicated by the power of Nik’s body rutting against him, his mind unable to focus on anything but the blind obedience demanded of him.

If he lifted his hands from the tiles he lost his one anchor to the world, he threw himself purely to Nik’s mercy, to keep him standing, to hold his body as he used it. Nik’s fist moved faster, thumb sweeping the precum from Price’s slit, squeezing on the upstroke with every slap of his hips against Price’s backside. Nik bit marks into his shoulder through low moans, and listening to Nik grow increasingly erratic, losing himself in dominating Price’s body, threatened to throw Price over the brink. “John, you’re so… good, ya mechtayu o tvoyem tele… mm, ah… hochyu tebya… yebanyi, ah!”

Nik pulled away and spun Price, pushing his back to the wall with a hand returning to his throat, their lips crushing together in a kiss that was all teeth and tongue and a burning passion that stung. The fingers that had teased Price’s cock now took one of his wrists, pinning it to the cool tiles and then sliding up until they intertwined with Price’s. “Is this what you want—what you need, solnyshko?” Nik whispered into the bristles of Price’s beard, biting gently at the line of his jaw.

Price couldn’t speak. Words seemed impossible. Instead, he squeezed the hand in his and rolled his hips into Nik’s, tilting his head to capture Nik’s lips, his mouth yielding to the tongue that licked into it immediately. The hard line of Nik’s body trapping him to the wall, the feel of his thighs, the pelt of hair down his torso that Price was going to bury his face in later rubbing into his skin, slick with water and precum, the bite of Nik’s teeth in his throat, in the meat of his shoulder, it built to a dizzying, overwhelming crescendo. Price finally cried out, his knees giving way as his cock spilled between them. Nik held him up, one arm looping around Price’s waist as his cock twitched and spent in the curve of Nik’s hip.

”So good, John… look at you, kraséevyi…”

Nik lowered Price carefully to the floor, leaving him on his knees as he rose back to his full height, taking the back of Price’s head to feed his cock into the slack mouth awaiting it. Price felt like he was floating on air, his open hands turned up on his thighs, his shoulders and back slumped, and the velvet steel of Nik’s cock on his tongue felt like a divine fucking rite.

Nik was close; his balls drawn tight, teetering on the edge, and it took only a handful of thrusts into Price’s eager mouth before he was spending down his throat. Price’s eyes rolled back at the rich, musky taste of him, choking on it even as he lapped at the underside of Nik’s glans, his eyes watering, cum spilling over his lips and down his chin.

Two strong hands slipped around his head and held it, Nik’s forehead pressed to his, and they knelt in breathless silence under the torrent of hot water together, their tryst washed away and leaving only their quivering bodies as evidence of what had happened. Price had thought he was listless before, but now he was floating outside himself, the warm buzz burrowing deep into his bones, a dreamy calm blanketing his mind where before there had been anxious unease. He was so aware of every inch of his body, and every part of Nik touching him, every kiss that Nik pressed to his face; beneath his eyes, on his cheeks, his lips, his chin. Price had never felt anything like it, had never felt as close to another person as he did now, mentally, physically... fuck, emotionally. It was difficult to clutch onto a thought. All he wanted to do was sleep.

Price didn’t remember how they got back to his room, only the warm towel wrapped around his body and the soft fleece of his joggers, followed by the familiar comfort of his bunk and Nik’s heavy body pressed close in the quiet. He lashed out a hand and Nik caught it, guiding it down to his face where he kissed it gently. “Rest, I have you.”

I have you.

And Price trusted that he did.

It was so easy to give into the heavy weight pulling him under.

Price slept heavier than he had in years, his body a deadweight against Nik’s chest, and when he surfaced the world returned in a thick fog. He saw the flickering red numbers of his alarm clock first—2200–fuck, when—had he? He had slept away the entire afternoon and evening. “Fu—ck.”

”Ahh, welcome back to the land of the living,” Nik said softly, and Price rolled over. It was difficult. The bunk was built for one man and Nik wasn’t exactly a small second. By the time Price had settled, he was so close their noses touched and his entire vision was consumed by sleepy brown eyes. “We need to talk, Jonathan.”

Price swallowed hard, his toes curling, his cheeks warming. “Yeah," he croaked, his voice raw. "Reckon we do.”

[sabertoothwalrus]

I NEED to know what Nico looks like while Finn is in his Bear Arc. Did Nico become more kittie? Is he fluffier now? Saber I need answers

I promise I’m already drafting a drawing in my head but for the record I’ve always envisioned that Finn is the hairier of the two by FAR and that’s saying something because Nico is a Literal Catboy

[yanderenightmare]

TW: implied nsfw, implied noncon/dubcon, poly yanderes, sprained ankle, captive reader, apocolypse au, talk of fertility, murder of unnamed characters, mentions of potentially killing reader

fem reader

Just thinking about the apocalypse, the two army men who’ve long survived it in their shelter with barely any trouble, and then you, a poor girl trying hard to outrun your last captives only to run into them.  

You didn’t realize back then that it was like trading piranhas for sharks, too caught up in begging for their aid to think better of it. You should have just kept running, but your ankle was sprained badly, maybe even broken, and you were wearing so little you would most likely have died from the cold during the night if they hadn’t taken you in.

It seems unfair of them to have kept the giant bunker all to themselves, only the two of them, but you don’t judge. You would likely have kept it all to yourself as well.

This new world has bred new humans, and they’re all monsters. It’s honestly quite surprising they’d even let you in, given this is what they’re protecting, this sanctuary from the past, a comfort most people would kill their closest friend in exchange for.

Trust is all but dead, and so is honor or any other morality—you would know, you’ve lived out there for it all, only having survived by spreading your legs at the right moments. It’s a shameful tactic, and many times, you’ve wondered if it wouldn’t have been better to spare yourself and just die. What was the purpose?

This—you think. This must be it. They have showers and working hot water.

You don’t know how it’s possible—the original owners of the shelter must have been some type of millionaire. You haven’t had a warm shower since the world went to shit—years ago. It’s been a choice of waiting for rain or finding a lake, hoping it wasn’t rancid. Meanwhile, they have soap—scented soap, the lush kind you’d forgotten existed. It feels so nice you have to cry—rejoice—sobbing while lathering yourself, watching all the filth go down the drain, leaving you smooth-skinned once again for the first time in forever. You can’t remember having ever been so clean before, feeling reborn.

They have fresh clothes for you too—new socks and underwear, all clean fabrics, so much more than what you wore—pants, a shirt, and a sweater to keep warm. You didn’t know there still existed people who lived like the old days—you’d thought it was long gone, a bittersweet dream you sometimes have the pleasure of at night instead of the usual nightmares. Never had you thought you’d experience anything even remotely similar, but here you are—looking yourself in the mirror after so long, surprised to see a human looking back at you.

And they feed you. Not scraps, not leftovers, not rot, or days-old flesh from the last successful hunt—but freshly baked bread, vegetables, fruit—for fuck’s sake, they even have juice. You cry again while eating, and then you find yourself begging them again, “Please, let me stay—please, I’ll do anything. I can cook, clean, work—anything at all, I can do it, just please let me stay…”

You’re on your knees, forehead pressed to the heated metal floors—toasty and comforting, you think you could sleep better than ever right there.

“We’ll think about it,” one of them mutters as he gathers the plates. His voice was so harsh he might as well have said, not a chance. It’s clear by his frown that he’d rather send you right out again, leave you to the monsters.

“We’ll at least let you stay until your ankle heals, so don’t worry.” The other is more sympathetic, helping you up. “For now, let’s get you to bed. You must be exhausted.”

It hadn’t crossed your mind that they’d have beds—actual real soft downy mattresses and duvets and pillows. The two of you help make it together. It feels so foreign that you wonder if you might have died earlier. Some years back, you wouldn’t have thought heaven would resemble a prison cell, but now it only made sense—safe metal walls and a bed. What more could one possibly want in the world?

“I’ll wrap your leg for you if you sit.” He holds out a bandage roll, gesturing to your ankle.

Blinking, you can’t even register what he’d just offered until he’s getting down on his knees before you.

You panic, then. Bandages are hard to come by—it hardly seems worth it. “There’s no blood, you shouldn’t waste it—”

“It’ll heal better and faster this way,” he adds reassuringly. His voice is so soft and compelling that you find yourself sitting down without further quarrel, even when it makes you feel spoiled.

He’s gentle with you—holding you steady while wrapping it just tightly enough to be supportive. There hasn’t been a man who’s touched you like it.

“Does that feel okay?”

You can barely tell he’s talking to you. It’s all so lost on you that you can only wordlessly nod your head.

He fastens it just as carefully before standing. “Is there anything else you might need?”

You shake your head just as wordlessly. You can’t believe how nice he’s being. It makes no sense at all. Not in this world. Not anymore.

“I’m sorry, but I’m gonna have to lock the door,” he apologizes with a sheepish look once standing on the threshold.

You’d been stuck thinking about how warm the room was, trying to remember a single time you hadn’t been freezing during the night. “That’s okay, I understand,” you say. After all, what’s a locked door in comparison?

“Good,” he smiles—it’s likely the kindest smile you’ve ever seen. “Alright then, good night.”

Once again, you’re left stunned. The last time you’d heard those words spoken must have been from a loved one long since dead. It makes your lip wobble again as you say it back, “Good night.”

It's strange—they could have left you for dead but didn’t. They don’t seem gullible—they can’t be if they’ve managed to protect this place for so long—but you suppose there still exist men who have a soft spot in their hearts for helpless damsels in distress.

As you sink into the comfort, draping your duvet atop your battered body, you don’t even care about the camera in the ceiling—blinking red while watching you.

“Did you have to bandage her up?” he grumbles as the other walks into the bedroom after having said his goodnights to you. 

He’s already in bed, observing through the cameras on a tablet—you were currently curling into the duvet, wrapping it around you close for comfort. You’d likely not slept on anything so soft in a while—it wouldn’t surprise him if you preferred the floor. But no, you drift asleep quite quickly.

“You know how badly things can heal without proper support,” the other answers, regarding it as no big deal. “And besides, it’s not like we often need it—we have plenty to spare.”

He removes his clothes and crawls onto the bed as well, lifting the covers to slot himself right next to the other man, who still has a scowl on his face.

“Oh, come on…” he drawls. “She’s exactly what we’ve been talking about, isn’t she?”

The grump doesn’t answer, still with keen eyes watching you, even as you’ve fallen asleep—as if waiting for you to do something befitting a wild animal in a cage. The other’s eyes fall to the screen as well, but he only awes in delight.

“Look at her, already fast asleep,” he purrs while zooming in on your face. “I mean, did you see how she was begging earlier, what she said? I’d do anything,” he continues, almost whining. “So cute, I could have fucked her right then and there.”

The other man sets the tablet aside with a disagreeing sigh. “We’ll wait at least a week for her system to detoxify from the wasteland,” he says strictly. “I’m not touching her before then, and neither are you unless you want to sleep alone.”

The other groans then, flopping down on his back. “Yeah, yeah, you and your safety protocols,” he dismisses before a smirk creeps up his face, glee twinkling in his eyes as he looks up at his grouchy counterpart. “But then we keep her, right?”

“Tch—we don’t even know if she’s fertile. The wasteland could have made her barren as long as she’s been out there,” the other shuffles down into the sheets as well, turning to look at his partner and the awfully keen look on his face.

“So we test her. Give her a medical check,” he says, again as if it’s not a problem, even when it very well could turn out to be.

They’ve already broken quarantine rules by letting you in here—and who knows what your real objectives truly are.

“I don’t trust her,” he states.

The other pouts. “I don’t see what one little lady can do—she’s hardly a threat. And we already purged the group that was following her. I doubt any of them made it out alive.”

True, he had gone out and sent several gas grenades into the settlement. Surely, none of them managed to escape, but then again—

“Pest control only works when you kill them all, and we’ve just let one inside our own house,” he grumbles.

The other one sighs. “Okay, so if it turns out she isn’t as cute as she looks, we’ll deal with her like the rest. But if I’m right, and she really is just a harmless little thing, we keep her, and I get to have the first go.”

Suppose there isn’t anything better to do aside from killing you straight away, which would only have been a waste of food, water, clothes, and bandages. 

“Fine.”

The other grins at the agreeance, humming, “I guess until then, we’ll just have to make do with each other—I've been hard since we watched her shower.” He leans forward for contact but is shut down as his bedmate rolls around with his back turned to him.

“Tch—take care of it yourself.” Tonight has been too stressful to tug each other’s dicks. 

He can hear him whine behind him, but he settles down soon enough.

Suppose it would be nice fucking a woman again. It’s been so many years he figured he wouldn’t need it anymore. They’ve made do with each other so far. But even he can’t deny, once you’d washed all the blood and muck off, once he saw the dewy hue of your soft skin and the silk of your hair, all those plush curves, and not to mention that awfully sweet look on your face—he felt the tug in his pants too.

He'll do a medical check on you tomorrow. He hopes you’re fertile. But even if you’re not, he might give in to the other’s wishes and keep you anyway. After all, they might have many luxuries, but the comfort of pussy is one they haven’t had in a long, long, long time.

♡ BNHA – KiriBaku, BakuDeku, ShinKami, DabiHawks, EndHawks, ErasurMic ♡ JJK – SatoSugu, ItaFushi, SukuIta, ♡ HQ – Miya twins, KageHina, BokuAka, ♡ CSM – AkiDen, YoshiDen ♡ BLLK – NagiReo

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[nekonanamii]

All for the best pt. 1— Toji x Fem! Reader

Your boyfriend Suguru doesn’t treat you as good as he used to. Maybe it’s because he’s busy getting his balls drained by someone else.

Just keep reading, I promise you this is a Toji x reader fic <3

Suguru and you have been together for years. You’ve been together since university, but ever since you moved to a bigger and more lavish apartment, things just haven’t been the same.

“Sorry honey I’ll be out til late I have a business meeting over dinner” he says in a text.

You can’t even remember the last time you had dinner together. You’ve had your doubts thinking he can’t possibly have business meetings over dinner that often but you kept telling yourself that your dear Suguru was faithful and loyal to you.

Little did you know that he was busy getting his balls drained by none other than the real estate agent who sold you two the new apartment. The very one you’re currently in right now.

It started with some light and friendly flirting between the two over apartment viewings, followed by the real estate agent’s skirt getting skimpier and skimpier each time they met for a viewing, the agent couldn’t help but gawk at how beautiful this man was and how sexy he was too. Suddenly, Suguru’s pants were by his ankles and the agent was on her knees sucking him dry.

By some odd chance, while the agent was showing him the new shower system this apartment had, the water accidentally turned on and got her white blouse wet, and by some odd coincidence, she had nothing underneath.

“Fuck you set this up didn’t you?” Suguru says as he pumps his cock in and out of her cunt.

Of course she planned this. Why on earth would she forget to wear a bra today?

And just like that Suguru spends more and more time fucking your real estate agent and blowing load after load into her cunt. What’s worse is that you have no idea they’ve fucked in every single room of your new apartment.

It’s Monday and you’re buying groceries for you and your boyfriend. You can’t help but think about how you don’t even need to get as much groceries as before because Suguru doesn’t even eat his meals at home anymore. So there you are, with half the amount of groceries you usually get and more wine in your cart than actual food.

“Sorry honey I’m spent. Maybe tomorrow.” Suguru says as you try to initiate some sort of sexual contact. What gives? You know your boyfriend has a high libido, but ever since you both moved apartments he just doesn’t seem to want any action?

You have your suspicions sure but Suguru would never cheat on you, right?

Wrong.

It’s 10:19pm on a Friday, you were supposed to be at your parents house til Monday but you and your mom had a small little argument about when you were gonna get married and give her grandkids, you’d love to give her answers I mean you’ve been with your boyfriend for 6 years now it was bound to happen sometime soon right? As you opened the door, you heard music. It was the type of jazz you know Suguru loves to listen to as he drinks his favorite whiskey. As you get closer to the living area, you hear it. Little whimpers and someone saying your boyfriend’s name as if it were a prayer.

You watched as your boyfriend roughly fucked into your real estate agent on your brand new couch that you picked with both her ankles on his shoulders. Your loyal and faithful boyfriend of 6 fucking years was thrusting hard while yelling out a string of curses about how much he loved her cunt.

Sickening.

Tears streamed down your face. You didn’t make a sound, but the tears were gushing out of your eyes. The pair were too busy fucking each other’s brains out to even notice you were there. You couldn’t even move. You wanted earth to just swallow you whole.

Suguru grabs the remote to the speakers and that’s when he sees you. “Y/n I-“

You sob. Uncontrollably and miserably.

~

The series of events that followed was a nightmare.

All Suguru had to say was “it just kinda happened, you weren’t there and I was lonely.”

Bullshit.

6 fucking years down the drain.

You buried yourself even more into your work. Spending longer hours at the office. Doing more work than the actual scope of your position.

Your boss took note of this. After all your were his favorite secretary. You were also the most competent.

You worked at Fushiguro Corp and you were the Mr Toji Fushiguro’s secretary.

~

Today was a special day, it was the celebration of the merger between Fushiguro Corp. and Gojo enterprises.

You were on your 4th glass of champagne and you were feeling the best you’ve felt in weeks after having gone through the worst betrayal of your life. You head to the viewing deck of the location your company held the celebration at. Little did you know that your boss was there first.

“Ms y/n, careful now you might fall off” he says as you rest your elbows on the railings

You’re a bit startled to see your boss out here, you can’t help but think to yourself how sexy he looks in his suit

Your boss let’s our a small chuckle, “Yeah you think so?”

Oh god did you just say your thoughts out loud? Shit. You did.

His large hand lands on the small of your back, pulling your closer to him.

“Now now, be careful, I told you you might fall”

~

And just like that Toji was pumping you full of his cum. He hates it when you waste even a single drop, hell he’ll fuck each and every single drop back into you.

You were his sweet little secretary and right now you’re splayed over his lap in the middle of a workday in his office receiving a harsh slap for letting his cum drip down your legs.

“M’ sorry it was just so much sir—” you sob as he gives you another harsh slap. He has a finger plugged into your pussy making sure his load stays inside.

Toji loved how easy it was to make you his good litte girl. You were smart, great at your job, and even though you were lousy at keeping his cum in your pretty little cunt, he thought you were absolutely perfect.

Your boss was a busy man with a tight schedule. He frequently had business trips abroad, he usually brought along multiple secretaries with him on these trips but on this particular one it was just you.

Of course you were on his private jet getting dick shoved down your throat as he took in a work call. Toji told you to stay quiet but how can you when he’s pushing your head deeper into him. Your boss ends the call, he pulls up your head and you couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief.

“Aww little girl couldn’t take my cock?” He says smirking as he looks at you.

There you were on your knees with saliva dripping down your mouth, glossy eyes, flushed cheeks, and red puffy lips.

God what a sight he thought to himself.

Just as you were about to say something he plunges his cock back into your mouth as he holds both sides of your head. He fucks into your throat while praising you for how obedient you were taking him in just like that.

“Good girl now be a doll and unbotton your shirt, I wanna see your pretty tits”

As soon as you exposed yourself to him, Toji’s pace became more erratic.

“Fuck, baby you’re so fucking beautiful fuck me—”

Your boss cums down your throat then pulls out of your swollen lips to cum on your face and your tits. It’s crazy how much cum he has. Honestly.

You get to the destination. It’s a private island. Your sneaky boss disguised this getaway as a work trip.

The villa you were staying at had a large double door facing the ocean. You would’ve enjoyed taking in the soft sounds of the water and the stars out tonight if you weren’t on all fours getting pounded like there’s no tomorrow.

~

Several months later your belly’s all round as Toji lightly fucks into you. “Wouldn’t want our precious little princess to get hurt, yeah?”

This man was truly insane.

You thought that the fact that you were pregnant, Toji would have some common sense to lay off you a little more.

Wrong.

Toji loves seeing you round with his baby. Fuck he thinks you look the sexiest like this.

He can’t wait to fuck another baby into you. <3

~

Your little princess is turning 1 and you were back to getting pounded non-stop, always having your pussy filled with this man’s cum.

Toji loves you, he proposed as soon as you got back from that “business trip” with him. He promised he’d take care of you and love you forever.

This man not only married you but gave you your beautiful darling daughter, and he can’t wait until he gets you knocked up again <3

Honestly, I just need Toji in my damn guts

Also! I made a second part (ish!) pov you’re the real estate agent 🫣

[spidermans-l-o-v-e-r]

Strawberries and Cream Presents:

✨Eddie Can’t Breathe✨

Pairing: Eddie x Reader

Word count: 3.4k

Masterlist

Notes: This is set sometime before Chapter 4 and meant to elude to Chapter 5… which teeny spoiler alert 🤣🤣🤣 I feel like I need to reread chapters before I make these mini-chapters but I like never do because once it's done its DONE okay. P.S Eddie knows how to Country line dance. I promise you he knows the entire Footloose 2011 scene

“You’re uh, hittin’ that bag a little hard don’t you think?” 

Bobby comes into the workout room, setting his towel and water bottle down. He crosses the black mat flooring to Eddie and holds the punching bag still for a moment 

“Am I?” He asks, spinning around and kicking it, sending Bobby stumbling backward a bit. 

“Because people normally do that,” He says, standing in front of the bag now. Eddie rolls his eyes and paces around, shaking out his arms 

“Can I help you?” He asks, sass dripping like venom

“What’s going on, you’ve been a bit on edge lately,” he asks straight out, crossing his arms over his chest 

“Nothing,” Eddie says just as firmly as Bobby asked. Bobby sighs a little, softening his stance

“Come on, you can talk to me if you need to. I’m here for you” 

“I don’t need to talk. I’m fine.” He dismisses him completely walks over to another freestanding bag and starts punching again. Bobby watches him for a bit, he knows Eddie can fight, he’s seen him boxing before. But he’s not being careful, he’s not aiming right. Not like he normally does 

“I think it’s time for you to hit the showers”

“I think it’s time for you to leave me alone” 

“Eddie-“

“Can you just leave me alone?? Can you kindly fuck off?” 

“Edmundo Diaz” 

“Don’t- don’t fucking full name me okay. I’m- I need space, can you give me some fucking space??” He looks like a caged animal as he paces again, shaking his arms out like he’s trying to shake off his nerves 

“Eddie this isn’t like you”

“This is like me! This is me, Bobby. All I’m doing is hitting a fucking bag! Would you rather I was hitting something else?”

“What if Y/N walks in? You know she comes to the station all the time”

“Don’t bring her into this don’t you dare say her fucking name”

“I’m just trying to help!”

“I don’t want your fucking help Bobby!” He stomps towards him, even when he’s seething he’s fast. He shoves Bobby backward into the bag and yanks his gloves off, throwing them to the ground. Bobby doesn’t miss his bloody knuckles. 

He leaves the gym, slamming the door so hard the glass shakes. 

“Hey, hey Eddie what’s-“ Buck tries to stop him but he just shoves him out of his way too. He needs a cold shower, a cold shower will fix things. 

The cool water flows over his body, he watches it swirl down the drain as he rests his head against his arm…just counting the tiles on the floor. The water isn’t helping as much as he’d like it to be but it’s something

He shouldn’t have yelled at Bobby like that, but he just doesn’t get it. No one gets it. No one’s ever gonna get it. Not even you. 

You. 

That’s a nice thought… a dream really. The beach was a dream, kissing you was a dream. There was just no way you could be real. He didn’t… he didn’t deserve you. Not with the things he was hiding, and even when you found out he had PTSD (No. He fucking doesn’t.) you gave him space to breathe and didn’t pry. 

He doesn’t know. Things are just…getting tight lately. The corners of his face are hot all the time, sometimes it feels like he’s not even breathing even if he is…fuck maybe he needs an inhaler or something… that’s probably it. An inhaler would be wonderful. 

It wouldn’t stop him from waking up in a cold sweat.

It wouldn’t stop the shaking hands. 

It wouldn’t… stop the recent nightmares. 

But you did. 

The night you slept in his bed was the first time in the last couple of weeks he’d gotten a good night's sleep and he wished you’d stay he just wished you’d move in already. 

Someone clears their throat behind him and he jumps nearly 10 feet in the air. He spins around, ready to deck whoever snuck up on him 

“Oh. Shit, god, really?!” He splashes Buck with water and turns back around, pouring shampoo into his hair 

“Apologize to Bobby” He crosses his arms over his chest 

“Hell no”

“Apologize to Dad right now” 

“First of all, You’re such a baby. Second of all, I’m literally in the shower” He rinses his hair out, before squirting some conditioner in, his hair wasn’t fluffy and perfect without a little hydration 

“He’s just trying to help Eddie you know that! Bobby loves us. And we love him…and…and you know I can’t stand to see any of us fighting.” 

“We aren’t fighting” He turns around, pouring soap onto his pink (from Buck) loofah. He methodically washes his body, avoiding certain areas while Buck is legitimately watching him shower. 

“I know what you said to him. And he’s right. Something’s off Eddie. And it’s okay to be off man it’s okay if something is wrong… but it’s not okay to take it out on your family. Especially when they’re just trying to love you”

“I don’t want-“ 

Buck shoves Eddie back against the wall and glares at him as he steps into the shower, his clothes are getting soaked 

“You say that sentence and I will literally drown you. I don’t know what’s happening but if you-“ He choked up a little and Eddie sighed, letting his head fall hard against the shower wall

“We love you, Eddie. I love you.” 

“I love you too Buck,” He says, pulling him into a hug. He pats his back firmly, and Buck hugs him back, rubbing his back. He sighs into his arms and shakes his head 

“We’re family Eddie…let us help you” 

“Uhhhhh” 

Eddie’s eyes pop open as he hears the click of a camera 

“Whaaat are you two doing? Isn’t he dating Y/N?!” 

Buck spins around, still holding Eddie. Chimney snaps another photo of Eddie’s bare ass 

“He is dating her! I’m just telling him we love him and support him! He needs to know that!”

“Oh that’s cute they finally got together… and you do need to remember that Eddie”

“I’m not!-“ He shoves Buck out of the shower and hides his body 

“I’m not dating her!!” 

Eddie lays on his couch just staring up at the ceiling, he’s kinda bored, kinda sleepy. Kinda lonely. He’d spaced out a while ago, he’s not sure how long, can’t even remember what he was thinking about, but eh oh well. Now he was just itching for attention, or at least something more stimulating than staring at the ceiling and finding little shapes in the popcorn 

“Hello?” 

You pick up on the second ring and it’s like everything slows down to a crawl. He takes a deep breath, like he can smell your sweet strawberries and vanilla through the phone instantly soothing his nerves. 

“Hey Sugar cube…Whatcha up to?” He picks at the hem of his boxers, just toying with the little strings from the old material 

“Just in bed playing games, kinda too lazy to get up. What about you?”

“On the couch, staring at the ceiling” 

You giggle and he hears you shuffle a little like you’re changing positions

“Well aren’t we a couple of party animals” 

“Oh yeah we go hard, what are you wearing to this party?” 

You snort “Some random old t-shirt and a pair of boxers I found. You?” 

He blushes a little when you ask “I know we were being playful but it just sounds dirty when I say just a pair of boxers” 

You start giggling and he hears you shift again, you’ve gotten off the bed “Wait-wait please send me a pic, let’s make this as awful as possible” 

His phone beeps and he puts you on speaker to look at the notification, it’s a photo from you, you’re standing in the mirror making the dumbest face he’s ever seen and doing a silly little pose it makes him laugh and he rolls off the couch 

“Okay yeah” he goes to the bathroom and thinks for a minute 

“I’m not sure how to do this” 

“Oh my god, you’re actually going to?” You gasp and he chuckles 

“Hell yes. Just call me Chadford” 

He sends you the picture and you burst out laughing. He’s totally flexing, his hand under his chin as he bites his lip

“Please!” You scream and he laughs with you, leaving the bathroom and going to his bedroom now 

“Wait I have one more” He gets in bed, sending you a picture of his bare torso, and his boxers. You’re supposed to see the outline of his cock and this is supposed to be a joke…but a teeny tiny little part of him hopes you actually like it just a little 

He knows you’ve opened it when you start cackling, it’s captioned “You up?” And that just makes you laugh harder. He decides to hit the FaceTime button and you answer immediately, all he can see is the ceiling for a minute but he can hear you absolutely wheezing and it just makes him laugh 

“You did not FaceTime me!” you gasp, trying to catch your breath as you finally turn the phone towards you, you’re laying on your side, your cheeks flushed from laughing, your hair all messy from the pillows 

“I thought it would be funnier”

“It was, it so was” both of your giggles slowly die out as you two calm down. Now you’re just lying in bed together, panting softly 

“I don’t remember the last time I laughed that hard,” Eddie says, smiling at you. You feel like that little light at the end of the tunnel right now… he just has to get there and he’ll be safe 

“With Buck around? That’s a surprise. Besides I’m pretty sure we died that hard at Athena’s party” you giggle, getting comfy with a pillow snuggled to your chest 

“Are you alone?” He’s not sure why he asked

“Yeah! I think Buck’s on a date or surfing. I don’t actually remember what he said” 

“Some cousin you are” He jokes and you scoff, setting up the phone so it’s on you and you can play your switch again 

“Some boyfriend you are, shouldn’t you know where he is?” 

You’ve got him there. 

“Shut up, brat” 

You flick off the camera and go back to playing your game and he smirks 

“You want some company?” 

You perk up a little, looking at the camera 

“You wanna come over?” 

“Yeah, why not? We can game together, or game together separately” 

“Okay, yeah!”You sit up, grabbing the phone “hurry up” 

“I’ll be over in a few minutes” He gets out of bed, pulling on a pair of sweatpants from the floor and a t-shirt. Picking up his phone off the bed, he grabs his keys and wallet from his dresser and goes into the kitchen, grabbing a package of popcorn and cookies 

“You never show up empty-handed,” you say and he smiles as he slips some shoes on and leaves the house

“I don’t make the rules I just follow them”

He sets his phone up on the stand and buckles in, you’re laid on your stomach now, looking up occasionally as he drives. He hums to himself, watching the road while you watch him. Is it weird to think he’s a sexy driver? He can’t drive for shit you both know that, Buck likes to tease him for it. But… he just looks so attractive, one hand on the wheel, the other holding his head with his elbow propped up in the window 

“You’re staring sugar cube”

His voice breaks through your little haze and you blink a couple of times 

“Oh” your cheeks flush “I kinda zoned out” 

“It’s fine, kinda cute when you’re staring anyway. Makes me feel all shy” He teases and you shake your head, ignoring him 

“Are you almost here?” 

“Why? You that eager to see me?” 

Kinda. 

“No, so I can open the door” you stick your tongue out at him 

“I have a key, brat. I’ll just let myself in” it makes him weak how playful you’re being with him, watching you lying in bed just playing games is so domestic. He would have had you come over and do it in his but he didn’t want to make you leave the house. 

Eddie hangs up a few minutes later and you whine, going to call him back when you hear the front door open 

“Just me sugar cube” He calls out while slipping off his shoes 

“You want the popcorn now or later?” 

“Now please” 

He comes upstairs a couple of minutes later, his hands full and you rush over to help him. You grab the popcorn bowl, set it down, and take one of the sodas he brought up. He tosses the package of cookies on the bed and lays down, stretching out and putting his soda on the nightstand 

“C’mere sugar cube” He holds his arms out and you blush, straddling his lap and leaning down to kiss him. He sighs into the kiss, his hands trailing up your sides gently. He looks at you as you pull away, admiring how pretty you look sitting on top of him 

“I missed you… haven’t seen you in like a week” He says, his hands sliding up under your T-shirt. He lifts it a little, tugging at the boxers you’re wearing 

“Can’t stay out of my clothes huh?” 

You lift the shirt, looking at them “What are you talking about?” 

“These are mine” 

Your mouth drops open and he snickers, smacking your thigh and pushing you off his lap gently so he can sit up “looks damn good on you too” your cheeks flush and you fall back on the bed 

“How am I only wearing your clothes?! Out of all the clothes Buck owns! I always pick yours!” 

“Kinda like it was meant to be huh?” He smirks and grabs his switch, pulling you back into his side 

“Maybe if you’re good I’ll give you my shirt” 

“I don’t want your stinky shirt” You say, cuddling into his side and continuing your game 

“Stinky? I literally just got this from the laundry, you saw me” 

“I’m pretty sure that’s not true” You mumble as you run after a cherry blossom petal 

“Oh, so that’s how you wanna play? Yeah okay” He takes your switch from you and before you can even protest he lays over you, rubbing his body on you 

“Eddie!!” You laugh and try to push at him, but he suddenly pins your hips with his, he takes your hands and pins those above your head too 

“Something wrong? Don’t like my delicious cologne?” He teases and you try to squirm out from underneath him 

“Quit it ya perv!” You tell him and he gasps dramatically, feigning hurt 

“Perv?? Oh I’ll show you perv-“ He holds your hands with one hand and starts to trail his other hand up your torso, he lifts your shirt with it, reveling in the way he’s revealing your body 

“Eddie! Quit it!” You buck your hips into him and he groans, feeling you brush against his cock. His lifts your shirt over your bra, it’s pretty and lacy… he leans forward, kissing the valley between your breasts before dragging his hips along yours. 

You let out a shuddering sigh and he looks up at you, licking a long stripe over your breast and placing wet kisses along the top

“Just so you know, Fanark is my safe word” 

You snort and look away from him, giggling into the pillow 

“You mean like from Garfield and friends??” 

“That’s exactly it” he laughs into your chest and lets your wrists go, your hands immediately find their way to his hair, tugging him up to your face. He pulls the boxers you’re wearing down some and smirks at your cute matching set.

“You’re such an idiot” You giggle as you kiss him, he grinds against you again and you both moan against each other's lips 

“Says the idiot who understood the reference” 

Sex in Buck’s bed is a complete no-go and that’s something you both know because honestly, it would probably be so awkward when he came home… but it’s so tempting, the tension rising tenfold between the two of you.

Though you both agree you’re not ready for that step, Eddie keeps rolling his hips against yours as you make out and you’re not stopping him. 

“It’s just messing around” He mumbles as he kisses your neck and you breathlessly agree with him. You feel his hard cock straining through his underwear, the size of him alone is enough to soak your panties. He toys with them a little before pulling them to the side and grinding on your clit like that. 

“Fuck, What I wouldn’t do for just the tip” He pants and you nod along, agreeing with him again… just the tip… that’s as far as you two would go…. 

Your hands slide over his shoulders and you drag your nails over his back, his hips stutter for a second and he thrusts against you this time, his hips snapping into yours a couple of times. 

“D-do that again” His voice sounds soft and broken and it’s hot. You do as he asks, whimpering his name while digging your nails in a little harder this time, he moans into your neck and you feel him start to pull his boxers down…

Suddenly the front door starts to unlock and you two jump apart. He gets up from the bed and slides down the railing, he’s in the bathroom before Buck even gets the door fully open and you’re left there, laid out on the bed wondering how the hell he moved that fast. 

“I’m home! Eddie are you here??” 

You rush to fix yourself and the bed up, setting everything up to hide any evidence of what you were doing 

“Just in the bathroom!” You hear him call out as you’re fighting your bra back in the proper place 

“Oh, Cousinkins” Buck says in a singsong voice and you come to the top of the stairs 

“Hi! What’s up?” You try to act as nonchalant as possible, watching Buck go into the kitchen and start getting ingredients for a smoothie. 

“I’ve got to go do a few errands, you and Eddie wanna join me? Or are you cool hanging here with him”

“We can just hang here, hey why don’t you bring home pizza, I’ll spend the night” Eddie walks out of the bathroom, answering for you.

“That sounds fun! What were you guys doing?” 

“Just animal crossing… he literally only just got here about 15 minutes ago,” you say, coming down the stairs and walking past Eddie, he watches as you walk, biting his lip at the sway of your hips. Buck flips him off as you’re bent over in the fridge and Eddie rolls his eyes playfully. 

“You seem… winded” He says to Eddie, who just shrugs in return 

“He literally ran downstairs to go to the bathroom” you pull out extra smoothie stuff for yourself before dumping Buck’s in a reusable cup and putting the lid on 

“Well don’t you two just have all the answers” he eyes you suspiciously and takes the cup, watching you wash out the blender and start your smoothie 

“You sound so suspicious” You giggle as he grabs his keys off the table, his eyes narrowed as he makes a little I’m watching you motion with his hand and leaves again. 

“Well that was freaking close” Eddie sighs loudly as he goes back up to the bed.

“Too close” you watch him walk up the stairs, staring at his ass and biting your lip. 

“Besides our first time needs to be at my house, in my bed” he teases you, practically already planning exactly how it’s gonna go. His phone pings from the bedside table and he picks it up

His head falls back as he busts out laughing, Buck has sent him a link to a new bed set and a picture from the cameras in his house that just capture Eddie on top of something from the corner of the room. 

Neither of them tell you, and the bedding comes a couple days later. 

Bobby receives a text later that night, a picture of you and Buck asleep on the couch together. He smiles and shakes his head at the two of you passed out. A couple of minutes later another text pops up and all it says is 

“I’m sorry, Dad”

[alexalbono23]

Love Down Under (Charles Leclerc smut)

WARNINGS - 18+, sexual content

Summary - After a frustrating Australian GP Charles takes all of his anger out on you, his little slut. (Based on a request. Keep them coming! )

Once again everything went down the drain as Charles put on the red suit. A DNF again, any chance at the championship already lost, this was a nightmare and you knew Charles attitude in bed when he was frustrated.

You had been laying on your hotel bed for a while now, only wearing your lingerie after the shower. Charles hadn't returned from the team meeting yet but you could already feel his dick slipping inside you as he hate fucked you to take out his anger, just like he did after Bahrain and many races in 2022.

As soon as Charles opened the door, only seeing you in your hot lingerie, he was rock hard.

"I know it's been though, babe", you said as you hugged him and gave him a soft kiss. "You can take it all out on your little slut tonight".

You couldn't remember much from this hot night as Charles passionately pushed you against a wall, starting to undress himself. He quickly pulled down his pants as you took his shirt off, revealing his muscular body. He only was in underwear now, fat bulge as usual, when he forced you down to his crotch.

"Suck it dry, babe"

You pulled down his calvins as a fat, uncut cock sprang into your seight. It was a boyfriend dick, about seven inches and some pubes decorating his hill.

You started to suck on hit, gagging at the sheir size of it. Charles moans filled the room as he forced you down further and further, giving him the best deepthroat of his life.

After a few minutes he ordered you to "stop, my petite slut" and threw you onto the bed. You could see just how hard he was, his enourmous cock already poking out some fat veins.

Charles fucked you so hard and long that night that probably the entire hotel had heard you. Your moan as he entered you, completely stretching out your pussy, had probably also been heard loudly at the circuit.

He set a blistering pace that night, fulfillig your wildest dreams and fucking you senseless for minute after minute, hour after hour. Accompanied by his soft moans he came sometime after midnight, filling you up with his load. You couldn't remember your own orgasm, it was all a blur.

[angelsanarchy]

Alkaline: Euronymous x Y/N Series CH 28

Tagging: @ophelialaufey @madamemaximoff06 @forever-not-gonna-sink@ajmiila02@liquidsmoothdomme@shady-the-simp @auggiethecreator @tempt-ress @blacksoul-27 @shroomje

It was dark and he was standing in the middle of the woods. He couldn't feel anything. The trees moved with the wind but he couldn't feel the breeze. He caught glimpses of long blonde hair cutting through the trees and he felt his heart skip. It was Pelle. He picked his feet up to follow the streaks of blonde through the dark trees. He tried to call out to him but couldn't find his voice. The deeper he walked into the woods, the more lost he became. He spotted Pelle again. He reached out to touch his shoulder and when he spun around half his skull is gone, blonde hair drenched in blood. Oystein stumbled back and was startled by a sudden wave of heat. He could hear screams and see flames. He ran towards the fire and saw his parents and little sister trapped in the burning house. He tried to run towards the house but his legs started to sink into the dirt like quicksand. He heard laughter as he cried out to his burning family and it was Varg, pissing on the burning house and laughing at him. Oystein felt it getting harder and harder to catch his breath.

"Relax man...it's just sacrifices to the cause." Faust smirked, blood dripping from his teeth as he wields a large hunting knife. Y/n is crying at his feet as Varg walks over, taking the hunting knife and runs it across her abdomen, her entrails spilling out into her hands. He grabs her by the hair, yanking her head back, exposing her throat to him as he slices through her neck, blood spraying across Oystein's face.

Oystein jumped with a start, reaching for his face and wiping it.

"Hey hey, it's okay. You're okay babe. Just breathe." Y/n was sitting next to him, running her hand down his bare chest and moving his hair from his face. She looks him over with concern.

"Were you having a nightmare? You were making a lot of noise but I was too afraid to wake you." Y/n could feel how hard his heart was beating and his hands were shaking as he covered his face.

"Oystein...what happened? What did you dream baby?" She stroked his hair and he shook his head, reaching over to grab a cigarette and lighting it up.

"I honestly don't even want to rehash it. It was just..really vivid and fucked up." He explained seeing how shaken he was pressing his lips to the cigarette.

"You know none of it's real. You're safe here with me. Everything is okay." She tried to reassure him but he nodded.

"For how long? I mean with the way things are going right now, Varg could go to the press, turn us all in and I'll be sent off in handcuffs as some satanist who likes to eat brains." Oystein was upset. Y/n could tell whatever his dream was about, it had rocked him.

"How about you finish that and then we'll get you cleaned up?" Oystein wasn't sure what she had in mind but he watched her get out of bed and walk into his bathroom. She started up the shower and came to the door naked pull him towards the bathroom. He was still naked from the night before and followed her into the shower letting the hot water wash over him.

He could feel her hands run over his chest, his ribs, she grazed his semi hard cock but knew this wasn't about getting off. It was about comfort. She massaged shampoo into his head and let her fingers work through the migraine he was starting to get. He groaned into her touch and when she rinsed his hair, he wrapped his arms around her tightly. She relaxed her body against his and ran her fingertips up and down his back. The shower was relaxing and Oystein could feel the weight that he was left with from his nightmare washing down the drain.

"I love you Oystein. Everything is going to be okay." Y/n kissed his chest and looked up at him. He leaned his forehead down and rested his forehead against her own. He never thought he would be with someone who made him feel like everything was really going to be okay.

They got out of the shower and Oystein threw on sweatpants and let Y/n towel his hair dry.

"Can I ask you something?" He spoke from beneath the towel. She stopped rubbing his head and looked at him.

"What would it take for you to leave me? I mean of all the terrible shit I've done, what would be the deal breaker for you to call it quits?" He asked making her furrow her brow.

"Well I guess cheating would be up there. I don't share well so I'd absolutely not give you a second chance after that. Murder would also be pretty heavy. I couldn't be with anyone who would take another life. Hard drugs and alcoholism are up there too. Putting hands on me in an aggressive manner that I don't specifically ask for would be a deal breaker." The more she listed, the more Oystein made a mental note of things to avoid. He knew he wouldn't cheat or put hands on her. He knew his drinking isn't too bad and he doesn't use hard drugs. I absolutely hasn't murdered anyone so that's an easy one.

"I was involved in the church burnings...with Varg and Faust. I know you probably guessed that but I had to tell you. I don't want anymore secrets between us." Oystein explained making Y/n sit down on the bed next to him. She nodded like she knew already and that gave him some sort of odd relief.

"When Pelle killed himself, I freaked out. I didn't know what to do. I just...I sat there with him and cried for what felt like forever. I found his note...I just...I felt like I fucked up. I felt like I let him down and the only thing I could do was push his death to something extreme so no one would ever forget his name." Oystein started getting upset and Y/n took his hands into her own.

"I didn't keep pieces of his skull, I didn't eat his brains...I just wanted to cement his name into black metal because he deserved to be remembered. He was my friend...he was fucked up but he helped me become the person I am." Y/n wiped the tears from under his eyes.

"None of these nightmares are new. I've been dreaming about Pelle since I found him. The only thing that's different now is that more of the people I love are dying in them and I don't know how to stop them." Oystein let Y/n take his head and put it on her shoulder.

"Listen to me Oystein, you've made mistakes but you are not a horrible human being. You have a heart and a soul and you recognize the error of your ways. You are a talented and brilliant artist. You have a family that loves you, a band that respects you and a girlfriend who is so in love with you, she would take a bullet for you." Y/n held him tightly.

"You are not in this alone anymore. You've got me and I'm not going anywhere, no matter how bad it gets. You have me." He lifted his head from her shoulder and kissed her. She sighed into the kiss and laid him back on the bed to hold him. Oystein knew he needed a fresh start. He got one with Y/n and now he needed one for the rest of his life. He just didn't know how he was going to go about it.

[borathae]

↳ Index [Chapter 29 - Erinnerungen]

• Erinnerungen (German, memories)

Warnings: Romance, Fluff, the softest Angst, I cannot write warnings without breaking into tears, just read it, I am a broken woman, this is the most romantic fucking shit I have ever written, it’s so cheesy I fucking love it, also nightmares in the beginning

Wordcount: 9.1k

a/n: *sits in corner and cries loudly*

You are showering, filling the drain with your tears just as much as you fill it with the blood soaked water. It doesn’t want to get off. It’s not leaving your skin. It is part of you.

“Get off of me!” you beg it, rubbing at your skin until it hurts.

It doesn’t get off. You are covered in blood and it doesn’t wash off.

“It’s your fault.”

You turn upon hearing the voice.

Suzy is here. Finally she isn’t just a shadow anymore. She is standing right outside the shower. Her eyes are red from the blood seeping out of her mouth. On her chest a gushing wound is looking at you.

“Go away.”

“Go away?” her voice is distorted through the constant stream of blood dripping from her mouth, “why? To make it easier for you? To help you pretend that you didn’t end another person’s life?”

She steps closer and spits her blood all over the shower door. She begins ripping at it, trying to open it.

“You murderer. You killed another person.”

“Please go away, please leave me alone.”

“You killed me! You killed me! You killed me!”

“I'm sorry! Please believe me! I'm so sorry!”

“You murderer! You killed me!”

“Please go away! Please I’m begging you!”

“You murderer!” she screeches.

“No!”

You sit up, push at nothing. Your hands fall on your lap. Tears are streaming down your face.

“What?” you press out, staring into the darkness.

You had a nightmare. This wasn’t real.

You look at your hands. Moonlight illuminates them. They are still clean, not covered in blood.

“Oh god”, you press out and whimper into said hand, “holy fuck.”

It felt so real. As if she was right there with you, dying all over again whilst dragging you with her.

You turn to the person next to you in instinct. Taehyung is sleeping deeply, hugging a pillow to his chest.

You could wake him, allow him to hold you and soothe you back to sleep and yet.

Yet.

You turn away from him and stumble out of bed.

You can’t explain it, you truly can’t explain why you left the room to search for another instead. It was almost like instinct. You couldn’t control it.

You can’t explain it even when you reached your destination. You just know that you opened his door and stumbled inside with your heart aching for his comfort. You need to feel his arms around you, smell his scent, listen to his soothing whispers. This is all you need tonight.

“Yoongi?” you call for him.

But he isn’t in his room, only his stuff is. You seek him by grabbing one of his shirts and then hiding yourself in his bed. You squeeze your teary eyes shut and bury your face in his shirt. 

You miss him. 

Perhaps it is such a peculiar feeling to feel when he is clearly still out with Fredrick, but you do.

You miss him so incredibly much right now. 

You need him.

Just him.

You need your safety.

Your Yoongi.

You lose consciousness in the safety of his scent and the knowledge that this was his space.

There must have been some time between when you came to his room and when the door opened to reveal him. You didn’t take in that time as you were sleeping, holding his shirt with all your strength. 

Yoongi stops and stares, feeling frozen to the spot. He hadn’t expected you here and now he feels anxious. 

He takes a weary step closer. 

You’re asleep.

Yoongi feels relief wash over himself. 

He shrugs off his leather jacket and boots. Then he turns, taking off his dirtied shirt and dropping it on the desk. He locks the bathroom and showers for a long time. 

He even washes his hair, drying it with the terrible blow dryer. He wasn’t planning on washing his hair tonight, but that was before he found you in his bed. He wants to smell nice for you. And he wants to stall time. He is scared to go outside again, for Yoongi has been doubting everything in his life for way too long. Himself, your feelings, your relationship, himself again. He has been doubting and doubting and doubting.

Doubt is a painful emotion. Doubt aches as if someone was gnawing on his heart. 

He may be the Powerful Creator to most people, but to you he is Yoongi. The title feels oh so big. So important. Powerful Creator comes easy to him, he justh has to act the way people expect him to act. But Yoongi. Who is Yoongi? It’s his truth. 

He has to be open and vulnerable. Then he is Yoongi. When he has his bleeding heart on the table and his soul bared.

And this is painfully scary to think about. It is so scary that he has been doubting just how much he wants to open himself. And then he doubted his own doubts and began from the beginning. Hating himself, loving the thought of you, hating his fears, doubting his decisions and beginning anew.

And that is why he is anxious to face you, fearing what you might ask him. He fears that you ask him why he pulled away, why he was so distant to you lately, why he stopped loving you oh so deeply. He fears those questions because he doesn’t want to answer them, for he doubted every answer he came up with until he stopped thinking up new ones.

But he has to. At some point his excessive evening routine just felt like childish ridiculousness. 

Yoongi leaves the bathroom door open, entering the bedroom in nothing but a towel. It’s you after all, you can see him that way. 

He gets some briefs and a clean shirt and abandons the towel by the desk. Then he turns.

You are sitting up in his bed, staring at him with your eyes puffy from sleep.

“I had a nightmare. Can I sleep here?”

Yoongi feels relieved. Not because you had a nightmare, but because your question wasn’t filled with accusations.

“Of course”, he says.

“Can you hold me?” you open your arms. 

Yoongi feels himself get drawn closer automatically. He claims his rightful spot beside you, opening his arms for you. You fall into his embrace, clutching him oh so tightly. You inhale and Yoongi feels how you shiver as you exhale. 

“You smell so much better than your shirt”, you whisper.

“I took a shower.”

“It’s not the shower, it’s you”, you twist his shirt.

Yoongi closes his eyes, resting his cheek on your shoulder. It’s him. 

It happens naturally that you and him lie down, holding each other oh so tightly. 

“I missed you so much, Yoongi.”

“You did?”

You nod your head. 

“I feel as if we barely have nights where we fall asleep together anymore.”

Yoongi stays silent, feeling sick in guilt. He knows that it was his fault. He is pulling back. He noticed it happening. 

“I feel like it’s my fault”, you say. 

“What?” Yoongi gasps, feeling frozen in shock. Why would you blame yourself? Why you? You did nothing wrong. 

“I’ve been acting so weird ever since Suzy. I think I avoided you a little.” 

Yoongi noticed that you did, but blamed it on himself. It must be him, he thought, it must be his fault like it always was. You finally must have realised just how fucked up he and his world was and finally had enough of it. And him. Like always, you finally had enough of him.

“I didn’t even notice it", he lies. 

“Good, that’s good. Because it wasn’t your fault I just….doesn’t matter, I don’t want to talk about it tonight.”

“Why not?”

“It makes me want to cry.”

“I see.”

“I dreamed of her tonight.”

Yoongi understands. 

“I’m sorry”, he whispers. 

“So I came here.”

“Why?”

“Because you told me that I should come to you when I’m having a nightmare.” 

“I see. What about Taehyung?”

You lift your head from his chest. 

“You are different”, you say, “you keep me safe.”

“And Taehyung doesn’t?”

“He does, just not like you do”, you say and slip off your magic ring. You place it on the pillow beside you. 

Yoongi eyes it. You just shed off your protection. This small fragile ring is your shield against losing your independence. And you put it away. In his presence you decided to put it away.

He exhales shakily and looks back at you. 

“Yoongi, can you make me dream of home?”

“You want me to make you dream of home?” 

You nod your head and rest it on his chest afterwards. 

“Please, make it about the greenhouse.”

Yoongi places his hand on your head, caressing it softly. 

“Close your eyes.”

“They are.”

“Good. Relax.”

Then you tingle. Your entire body is tingling unbearably until suddenly it stops. 

You feel dizzy for just a second, peeling your eyes open slowly. 

You are in the library. There is no colour around you. Just shades of grey.

“Yoongi?” 

“Hey”, he says. He is wearing a jumper, white and incredibly fluffy. 

When you take a look down at your body, you realise that you are also bundled in comfortable winter clothes. 

“I don’t understand. What kind of dream is that? Why is everything in black and white?”

“It’s my memories.”

“Your memories?”

Yoongi extends his arms until you finally intertwine your fingers with his’. 

“Follow me”, he says, leading you past a heap of books. 

“Wait”, you oggle the small table on which a cup of tea had cooled down already, "is this the day when you?”

“Yes”, he leads you down the stairs and through the library. 

“Why would you pick out that day?”

“To do it differently.”

“I see.”

You enter the entrance hall and instead of taking the right path to the keys room, Yoongi leads you down the left path. 

You eye the room. It was hidden behind a wall of dark, ominous looking fog. You know what that meant. This would be where his actual memory starts. 

The door to Jimin’s wing opens easily. 

“The greenhouse”, you gasp in realisation of where he is taking you, drawing closer to Yoongi, “I miss it so much. Can you really show it to me?”

“Yes, you can see it again.”

“But why is everything so detailed? The last time I was in your memory everything was so blurry.”

“Because I remember it well. The other thing happened hundreds of years ago, I forgot the details.”

“It makes sense”, you say, looking around the perfect replica of Jimin’s wing, “this is remarkable. Gosh, I want to be able to do that.”

“It can be dangerous, you know?”

“Why?”

“Wanting to live in nothing but your memories is possible but you lose yourself in the real world when you stay too long.” 

“I see…it makes sense. After all your body is still out there.”

“Mhm.”

“Do those vampires rot away without noticing?”

“Yes, most of the time.”

“I see”, you sigh, “that’s sad.”

“Yes.”

“But maybe also beautiful?” 

Yoongi sneaks a glance your way. 

“Maybe they found their peace in their memories and now they can relive their favourite moments eternally. It must be nice to find refuge from eternity that way.”

“Maybe”, he says and squeezes your hand, “I’d rather live.”

The golden doors to the greenhouse are grey in his memory, opening slowly and with a squeak. 

“I fixed that squeak in the real world. It’s so weird hearing it again.”

“You did?”

“Yes, I can show you once we’re home again.”

“Yes, show me”, Yoongi says. 

You and him stop. Your fingers tighten around his hand. You are finally in the greenhouse.

“Wow”, you gasp, feeling your eyes fill with tears, “this is my greenhouse”, you whisper, slipping out of his fingers for excitement has taken over and you have to run down the tunnel of wisteria sinensis whilst laughing happily. 

Yoongi follows you with a smile, watching you with sparkling eyes. 

“Look at the moonflower! Oh, look at the raspberries! Oh god, my tree! Yoongi, the roses were still so small back then!” your voice is everywhere at the same time as you run around your greenhouse and look at everything. 

Yoongi decides to wait by the little table for now, knowing very well that you won’t have eyes for anything else except your plants. He waits gladly, finding it rather healing to do. 

“Woooah”, he hears you from somewhere, “the bleeding hearts”, you squeak out and Yoongi has to smile, “tiny, little babies. So small. Oh my god, they were literal dwarves back then!”

He can hear steps, they come from his right, which means that you just finished your lap around the entire greenhouse. 

He watches you run to him. There was a little flower in your fingers and a big smile on your face.

“Yoongi!” you exclaim, “everything’s still so small and tiny!”

You come to a stop in a stumble, touching his chest as you beam at him. He catches you, holding you safely by your elbows.

“Yoongi”, you are bouncing on the spot, “this is my greenhouse. We’re in my greenhouse.”

“I know. Do you like it?”

“I love it! I love it so much”, you fall around his neck, “you are the most amazing person ever. Thank you so much.”

Yoongi realises then that your heart was racing unbearably. And while he can’t smell how happy you were, he knows that you were. And it makes him happy too because you are hugging him and you are smiling and that is all that matters.

You step back and lift your hand. 

“Stay still.”

Yoongi does so rather stiffly, watching you with his breath held.

You put the little flower in his hair. 

“Wow, so pretty”, you giggle and clap excitedly, “Yoongi my love, you look so pretty!”

He has to lower his eyes, shimmying from one foot to the other. 

“You’re like my flower prince now”, you say and gasp so loudly that Yoongi thinks something might have happened. 

He looks at you with worry, realising that you are still smiling.

“Do you want to make flower crowns for each other?” you ask with sparkling eyes. 

“Of course”, Yoongi agrees instantly because he loves the idea. It’s silly, but he is silly when he is with you, so it’s only fitting that he does silly things with you. 

And so you and him spend your many minutes gathering the most beautiful flowers in the greenhouse. You tell him little facts about them and Yoongi listens intently. At some point he even managed to say a fact before you could, glowing in pride because it was something you didn’t know and you called him oh so knowledgeable. He felt happy that he read all those plant books in secrecy at that moment. 

You sit by the moonflower as you make your crowns, listening to the calm fountain and facing each other with just too little distance between you and him. 

Your flower crown looks magnificent while his’ looks just way too messy for his taste.

“I don’t know”, he says and drops his cornflower, “I think I messed up.” 

“No, it’s good. You have to make sure that the stem is wrapped around the others and it should hold”, you tell him.

“Like this?” Yoongi asks and messes up. The flower drops with a hanging head. Yoongi sags his shoulders, “I can’t do this. My fingers are too big.”

“That’s not true”, you giggle, “you’re just pressuring yourself. Wait, let me show you.” 

You place your hands over his and Yoongi feels lost instantly, gazing at you with jittery hands.

“Go like this while you hold it with that hand”, you explain, guiding his movements, “now put it under there and it should hold. There, like this.”

You lift your head, locking eyes with him. 

“Did you just stare at me?”

He nods his head wordlessly, parting his lips. His eyes are sparkling so much. 

“You did”, you whisper and smile shyly. Your eyes flit down, “I finished your crown. Do you want to try it on?”

“Yes.”

You lift it. Yoongi tilts his head closer to you, making it easier for you to put it on. He closes his eyes. He has no idea why he did, but it happened naturally.

“There we go, it’s on.”

Yoongi lifts his head, fluttering his lashes at you.

“Wow”, you gasp, “Yoongi wow. Now you’re my actual flower prince! It fits you so well!” you exclaim and giggle, cupping his cheeks. 

You squish them softly. 

“You are so handsome. Wow.”

Yoongi feels his cheeks literally go up in flames.

“It just sucks that I can’t see you in colour”, you say and pout. 

“I know, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, I love this so much.”

You touch his hands, caressing his knuckles softly.

“Can I see your flower crown too?”

“It’s not good”, he says, lifting it shyly. 

“No, it’s so pretty. Oh I love how you made it look fluffy.”

He lowers his eyes, feeling his cheeks burn up. 

“Can I wear it please?”

“Yes, c-close your eyes”, he stutters because he feels so much right now. 

You do so, smiling and tilting your head to make it easier for him. 

“Keep your eyes closed until I tell you.”

“Okay, okay. What are you doing?”

“Something”, he says and somehow he sounds a little strained. 

Silence for just a moment. Then Yoongi lets out a deep breath. 

“Open your eyes.”

You peel them open, feeling them tear up instantly. 

“Colour.”

Greens, dozens and dozens of them, colour from red to pink to blue and yellow. All of it. All the colour has returned. 

“Yoongi, what did you do?” 

“Nothing much, I just altered it.” 

“That’s possible?”

“When I’m concentrating hard enough", he says and nods his head. 

“Yoongi…” you whisper, intertwining your fingers with his’.

Yoongi lowers his head, “it’s nothing”, he whispers while in reality he hopes that you can see that he is currently giving you his entire world.

You realise then that his sweater, which you believed to be white is actually a bright yellow. The flowers in his crown are a scatter of every colour and while it should have looked messy, it didn’t.

“Yoongi, oh god”, you tear up again, “look at you. You look so, so pretty in colour.”

“You too”, he says and smiles, “the crown looks pretty on you.”

“You think so?”

He nods his head, lowering his gaze shyly. 

“Like my flower princess”, he whispers, burning up in embarrassment afterwards. 

You giggle, swinging his hands from side to side. 

“You’re so cute”, you say, “we’re royalty then and the greenhouse is our palace.”

He nods his head in understanding and feels his heart flutter.

This time around he truly felt it flutter. Here in this memory where his reality can be altered, his heart flutters. And Yoongi feels alive. Right this moment as you squeeze his hands and gaze at him with sparkling eyes, he feels alive.

“Oh Yoongi”, you say, sitting yourself down on his lap to hug him tightly, “thank you. Thank you so much.”

Yoongi rests his chin on your shoulder and wraps his arms around your waist.

“It’s nothing.”

“No”, you shake your head, “it’s everything. I miss home so much. I want to do things like this with you and not wander from one city to the other.”

“I’m sorry, I know it’s not how you imagined all of this to go.”

“Why are you apologising? It’s not your fault.”

Yoongi lifts his head.

“I don’t know”, he breathes.

You caress his chin then his cheek, giving him a fond smile.

“You’re so handsome, Yoongi.”

“Stop.”

“No.”

He lowers his eyes and feels his heart flutter again. Oh, it’s fluttering so much.

“Let’s go somewhere else”, he says, gazing up at you.

“Where to?”

“I’ll show you”, he says, standing up with you. He sets you down and holds your hand, “follow me.”

You and him hurry down the tunnel of wisteria sinensis until you reach the golden door. Yoongi opens it for you and steps through. You follow.

Snow. The night. Cold on your skin.

“Huh?” you gasp, looking around.

This isn’t Jimin’s wing, but the parking space in front of the gas station. You turn to Yoongi, who is wrapped in the clothes he wore that night you and he bought snacks together. You look down your own body, realising that you are wearing your clothes of that night as well.

“This is another memory, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

You look at the gas station again. There are people inside. They are frozen on their spot, looking as if someone pressed the pause button on them. The entrance of the gas station was covered behind a thick wall of dark fog. So that is where you would have to step to start the actual memory. Once you would step through that fog, the people would start moving and your memories would play themselves out like a movie.

But not right now. Right now you are mere visitors in Yoongi’s impressive collection of little movie sets.

“Why are we here?”

“Because I like this memory.”

You look at Yoongi.

“You do?”

He nods his head.

“I like…I like how you…uhm, how you smile when it snows”, he confesses shyly, scratching the side of his neck as he speaks.

“You do?”

He nods his head. Snow begins falling then. You don’t know if this is the natural occurrence of that movie set or if Yoongi is responsible for it, but it doesn’t matter. It still makes you smile that one smile he is talking about.

“That one”, he whispers, making it grow.

“Oh, Yoongi”, you say, cupping his cold cheeks, “you are so incredibly sweet. And awesome”, you say, turning around to look at the scenery, “everything is so detailed and the cold feels so real. It’s so remarkable”, you tell him, looking at him, “how big is this world?" 

“As big as I can remember it to be.”

“That’s poetic. It’s as big as you remember it to be”, you lift your head, blinking at the snow, “imagine just how big memories must be for children then”, you say and smile, stretching your hands out to catch some snowflakes. 

You catch one and gasp. It glimmers on your fingertip before it melts. So you reach for them again. 

“What are you doing?” Yoongi asks. 

“Catching snowflakes.”

He finds it peculiar that you do, but not in a judgemental way. Almost in a way of honest admiration. Catching snowflakes sounds like such a childish activity to him, but you don’t seem to see it that way. It was something you wanted to do in this moment because it made you happy. He admires that about you. That you do whatever makes you happy even if there was a possibility that people could perceive it as childish. He wants to be like that too, but it is so hard for him most of the times.

He closes the distance between you and him, finding his place right next to you. He extends his arm and opens his palm. Maybe he just has to try it.

You sneak a glance at him. He feels it and turns his head. As if embarrassed, he lowers his arm again, hiding it behind his back. 

“Did you ever catch snowflakes before?” you ask him.

Yoongi shakes his head, “it’s a waste of time.”

“I don’t think so”, you say and lift your arm again. 

You look so happy that Yoongi wants to try again just so he could be just as happy. He stretches his arm as far as possible, staring into the endless darkness while the smallest of cold speckles tickle his palm. They hit his face as well and sometimes his eyes. Yoongi blinks each time that happens.

“I would have done this with you”, you tell him, “if you never left back then, I would have dragged you outside one day and then caught snowflakes with you.”

Yoongi sneaks a glance at you.

“And you think I’d have come with you?”

“I’d have gotten you out of your wing somehow.” 

“Probably”, he says and lowers his hand to inspect it. The tiniest puddles of melted snow have formed on his palm. Yoongi closes his fingers, wiping their traces that way. 

“I also would have loved to go ice skating with you.”

“Good thing I left then.”

“Yoongi, come on”, you say and click your tongue, “it would have been fun.” 

“I guess. It would have been cold too.”

“Obviously, the winter tends to be cold”, you tease and chuckle. 

“I know. You should stay inside and keep warm.” 

“Right and when it’s summer and warm you stay inside because?”

“It’s far cooler inside and the sun isn’t blinding.”

“Ah, of course. Obviously”, you say, stifling a laugh, “god Yoongi, you’re such a grumps.”

Yoongi shifts uncomfortably. He did it again. He was being boring. His stomach twists in fear. He doesn’t want to be boring. He has to fix it. 

He squats down and gathers some snow into a little ball.

“What are you doing?” you ask him, watching him with curious eyes. 

Yoongi gets to his feet, stares at you and aims. The snowball just kind of plops against your arm before peeling off and falling down. 

“Did you just throw snow at me?” you ask. 

Yoongi widens his eyes and nods his head hesitantly. His heart is hammering in his chest. Did he mess up? Is this not how having fun works? Why are you staring? 

“This was so random”, you say and laugh. 

He panics. So you didn’t like it. Oh no, now you’ll think that he is weird. 

You squat down and gather some snow. Yoongi watches you with big eyes. 

Then you get up and throw it right against his chest. The impact is gentle and dull. 

A smile tugs at your lips then you giggle. He feels tingly all over. So you did like it. 

Yoongi squats down again.

“Ah dear”, you gasp and then turn to run. 

“Wait you-”, Yoongi stops when he sees that just twenty feet from him you are gathering some snow of your own. His heart flutters. So this was a good idea. Yoongi is fun right now. 

He doesn’t get to celebrate with a smile because a snowball colliding with his shoulder stops him from it. 

You giggle in the distance, readying yourself to aim. 

Yoongi stands up, watching you tense up and then zoom away from him while giggles are leaving you. 

Yoongi sets out to chase you and then the most fun he has had in millennia begins. 

There are faint traces of snowball fights in his childhood somewhere on his memory map. But Yoongi can barely remember them. Hell, if he wasn’t running around the snow covered parking lot with you right now, he would have probably never even remembered them. 

I had snowball fights in my childhood. I had an older brother once. I had them with him.

He remembers those two specks in this moment and somehow it feels that because of it, even more snow begins to fall from the skies. 

Somewhere along the path of being less boring, Yoongi forgets all about his initial plans. And as this happens, he starts to genuinely enjoy running around with you. He even enjoys getting snow catapulted at his body, letting out little whines of complaints or just slightly pitched yelps. 

You are squeaking yourself, running all over the place as Yoongi chases you with snowballs in his hands. 

The fight is soon decided when you accidentally land a shot right at his face. Yoongi stumbles and then falls to the ground dramatically.

“Medic! I’m blind! Medic!” he yells, covering his face behind his eyes. 

“Holy moly, are you okay?” you gasp, hurrying to him. 

You fall to your knees and touch his arms.

“I’m so sorry. Does it hurt a lot?”

“Yes, you blinded me”, he whines. 

“No oh my god, Yoongi I’m so sorry. Let me see I, I can fix it.” 

Yoongi pulls his hands away, revealing his perfectly fine eyes to you. He smirks boyishly.

“Huh?” 

He moves, scooping up a little bit of snow just to throw it against your face carefully.

“Ah”, you cough then laugh, “Yoongi, I had my mouth open.”

Yoongi laughs. His chest feels like bursting in happiness right now. He feels so happy. Like a little child. When has he ever been silly enough to act out dramatic scenes and why is it so addicting to do when it’s with you? 

You rub your hands over your face, then look at him. Your hands reach for him and so it happens that you and him draw closer, almost toppling over in laughter. 

“You really got me there, I thought that I’d actually blinded you”, you say, picking a few pieces of snow out of his hair. You clean his scarf and coat next.

“I know right? I got you so good, you should have seen your face.”

Yoongi can’t stop grinning. He does it when you clean him and he does it when he cleans you and even after that he continues doing it.

You have never expected to see Yoongi act so…carefree. Just as you hadn’t expected him to run around and squeal like a little boy. Or even be the one to initiate the battle. 

You wonder what exactly made him want to start a snowball fight. In the end you come to the conclusion that he did so because he wanted to let out his sillier side with you.

You are so happy that he did. Happiness fits him so well. 

Yoongi helps you stands up, stumbling back when you attack him with a strong hug and a big smooch to his cheek.

“You are the best, Yoongi Boongie”, you say, smooching his other cheek as well.

Yoongi accepts it with a racing heartbeat and the overwhelming urge to hold you.

“I’m serious, you are the best.”

He says nothing. He just closes his eyes and leans in until you understand and claim his lips in a kiss. He can feel that you are smiling and he feels like smiling too. So he does, he smiles into the kiss and shivers when you caress the back of his neck with your tender fingers.

You pull back, keeping close enough that Yoongi can caress your nose with his own. He begins moving then, taking small steps until you realise what he was doing and you follow him with a smile.

“We’re dancing”, you breathe.

“Mhm, do you want to?”

“Yes, of course I do.”

“Mhm”, he hums and closes his eyes, resting his cheek against yours.

You feel your own eyes close as utter tranquillity threatens to overcome you. It feels so perfect to dance with Yoongi in the snowfall. You understand now why so many vampires lose themselves in their memories. You are here with him again under the bright lights of the gas station while snow is getting caught in your coats and there is no spy wanting you harm or no lingering threat of Namjoon wanting you dead. There is no time pressure to return to safety as quickly as possible. No. This right here is endless. A moment, which will always stay as calm and as perfect as it is right now for as long as you don’t step through the fog. And in this moment you can do all those things you had no time to do when it was your reality. Now you can kiss him, hold him, have silly snowball fights or dance with him and look at him for as long as you want to because you know that this right here is endless.

“Thank you so much, Yoongi”, you whisper.

“For what?”

“For all of this. I can barely even remember what I dreamed of now that I’m here.”

“Good”, he says, “I hope you can forget.”

“Me too. It was awful.”

Yoongi closes his arm around you tighter and kisses your cheek soothingly. 

“Yoongi, I’m sorry for avoiding you.”

“Don’t, you didn’t.”

“But I did”, you turn your head, locking eyes with him, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, you don’t have to apologise.”

“You probably want an explanation, don’t you?”

“It’s okay, I understand.”

“I just”, you still begin, “I can’t stand the thought that you could judge me.”

Yoongi furrows his brows in confusion.

“I killed a person and, and I can stand anyone judging me for it, but not you. If, if I knew that you would think differently of me now that I did something that awful, it would rip me apart.”

“Why would you think that I would judge you for it?”

“I don’t know. I was just so scared that you could, so I never tried to prove myself wrong.”

“But…”, Yoongi blinks rapidly, “…did I make you feel that way?”

“What do you mean?”

“Did I make you feel as, as if you needed to be ashamed in front of me?”

“Huh? Why would you think that way?”

“Because you said that this is why you avoided me. Did I really give you such a feeling?”

“No of course not. You didn’t, you…” you fall silent as you realise something, “holy fuck Yoongi, I just realised something. Taehyung was right. I created a picture of you in my head.”

You lift your head, looking into his eyes.

“I created something which isn’t even true and, and then believed it. Yoongi, I’m so sorry.”

“No, I uhm”, Yoongi feels lost for words. He tries to talk about his feelings for you. He may not do it with anyone else he meets, but with you, just with you, he tries to always be honest. But right now he can’t think of anything, because the entire situation confuses him so much.

You avoided him because you believed the voices in your head more than your reality. And Yoongi realises that he has been doing the same exact thing to you.

“Let’s go somewhere else”, he says.

“Huh? Wait- oh.”

You stumble into him, blinking at him in confusion now that he changed locations oh so abruptly.

“Oh god, now I’m dizzy”, you groan.

“Sorry, I just. I needed to be somewhere else.”

You look around. You are in the sitting room. The fireplace is crackling and outside a snow storm is raging. This is the night you helped him turn his emotions on. He is wearing the same clothes too. Black satin pants and a white button up.

He picks you up and lies you down on the sofa. He falls on top of you, knocking the air out of you. His urgency to cuddle surprises you not one bit as he often asks for them rather roughly, but somehow this time they give you a sense of unease. As if there was more behind them.

“___, I avoided you too”, he gives you the reason with that confession. It was muffled by your neck, but you heard it nonetheless.

“You did?” you gasp.

He nods his head.

“I’m sorry, I was pulling away.”

“What? Why?”

“I was scared.”

“Scared? Of what?”

“Of being boring.”

“Boring?”

He nods his head, hugging you tighter.

“You are so full of life and, and everything excites you and you want to do so many things and I feel that sometimes I disappoint you when I don’t want to do them.”

“Really?”

“Yes. And then someone else agrees to do them with you and I’m happy for you because you get to experience something that makes you happy with someone you care about. But then I can’t help but…”

He inhales deeply.

“…feel so angry at myself, because I’m such a fucking boring grumps who can’t even get over himself and dance with you or go to stupid fun fairs with you or play a game with you.”

“Oh Yoongi.”

He sits up, burying his fingers in his own hair as he folds in on himself.

“I’m so angry at myself. So fucking angry. You deserve someone who is just as full of life and happiness and excitement as you, but then you get me. Who is angry and bad mooded and cold and boring.”

“Please don’t feel that way.”

“And then I get scared because I know that the day will come when you realise that you have way more fun with Taehyung or Jungkook or someone else. And then you won’t need me anymore. And I couldn’t even blame you because I know that I could never be as fun or carefree or spontaneous as other people and you have every right to grow bored of me.”

“I won’t grow bored of you”, you tell him, but Yoongi can barely even hear you.

“And I’m trying. I’m always telling myself now you gotta be more carefree Min Yoongi”, he mocks his own voice, “the next time she wants to do something you gotta say yes and show her that you’re fun too but then when it happens, I end up saying no again and disappointing myself so much. Why is it so hard for me to be fun and exciting?”

“Please stop talking like that about yourself.”

“And I’m so scared”, he confesses, “I’m so scared that one day you will see me the way I see myself”, he presses out and sobs quietly, squeezing his eyes together, “I hate myself so much, what if, if you feel the same way one day? That’s my biggest fear. That one day you will see me the way I see myself.”

“Stop please.”

Yoongi turns his head upon hearing the utter pain in your voice. Your eyes are glassy in unshed tears as you look at him.

“Please don’t talk like this about yourself. You are so fun and exciting in my eyes”, you say in a shaky voice, “yes, you won’t go to stuffy nightclubs with me or do a stupid dance battle in the middle of the dance floor, but I don’t care about that.”

You shake your head.

“I don’t take it badly when you don’t want to do something. I, I just always ask you because I don’t want you to feel as if I wouldn’t want to do those things with you. I know you don’t like crowds and people, so I don’t expect you to say yes.”

You scoot closer, touching his knee gently.

“But that doesn’t mean that I think that you are boring, because you aren’t. You are so exciting to be with and I’m so, so, so happy when I’m with you.”

“Really?”

“Yes. I like going out sometimes, but at the end of the day I would rather take hours of sitting somewhere quiet with you and doing nothing more than hold hands and talk over all of those nights.”

“Are you serious?”

“So serious. Yoongi my love, you are the most exciting person in my life, because you make my entire body tingle and, and my heart flutter and you make sitting and holding hands the most fun thing I could ever experience. And I think in my opinion this makes you the most exciting person ever.”

“But I don’t have anything to offer.”

“You have everything to offer!” you take his face between your hands, shaking him softly, “please stop talking like this. Please Yoongi, I’m begging you. It hurts me so much whenever you talk bad about yourself.”

“Why?”

“Because it makes me feel as if I failed you as your girlfriend”, you sniffle sadly, “I work so hard to help you with loving yourself and whenever you talk yourself down, I feel like I wasn’t successful and then I feel sad.”

“But you shouldn’t.”

“Well, I do. And, and the thought that, that you even think that I could ever hate you breaks me”, you say and sob softly.

“Princess…please don’t cry”, he whispers, eyes widening in panic.

“I could never hate you, Min Yoongi”, you say with trembling lips, “please stop thinking like that, please.”

Yoongi lowers his head in shame. He realised quite a bit right now. That whenever he is hurting himself by being mean to himself, he also hurts the most important person in his life. His hurtful words hurt you just as much and that realisation makes Yoongi want to never talk bad about himself ever again.

“I’m sorry”, he says, drying your tears, “I won’t do it again. I don’t want you to feel as if you have failed me.”

“Good and I hope you stop feeling as if you have failed me”, you say, drying his tears.

“I’ll try”, he says and intertwines his fingers with you.

You draw closer, resting your head on his shoulder after kissing his cheek.

“I’m sorry too for thinking that you would judge me. 

“You don’t have to be sorry, I understand why you would think that way.”

“Really?”

He nods his head.

“I, I just f-feel so awful b-because she w-was your friend”, you get out and then you have to sob.

“Hey, my love, hey”, Yoongi cups your cheeks, wiping your tears away quickly, “don’t cry, it’s okay, my love. She wasn’t my friend.”

“I’m so s-sorry Yoongi.”

“It’s okay love, it’s okay”, he assures you and kisses your eyelids as gently as possible. Somehow it manages to stop your tears, body shuddering in your shaky exhale, “she wasn’t my friend. I had no idea who she was before we met her together.”

“Really?” you ask quietly, looking into his loving eyes, “so y-you aren’t mad at me for killing her?”

“Of course not, oh my sweetest princess”, he says, brushing his thumbs over your temples, “you could have killed Meredith in the cruellest of ways if that meant you could have been safe and I wouldn’t have been angry at you”, he says.

He wipes the new droplets of tears from your cheeks and kisses the tip of your nose.

“Being responsible for someone’s death is awful no matter how terrible that person was and I understand that you feel disgusted at yourself. But you shouldn’t worry that I’m disgusted. Or angry or whatever you think I might be.”

He takes your chin between two of his fingers most tenderly, gazing at you with all the love he has to offer.

“It just hurts me that you have to live with such a memory”, he whispers, caressing your chin with his thumb, “you were not supposed to experience something like this. Not you, my princess. Not you”, he says, placing his hand on the back of your head so he can make you rest your forehead against his.

You reach for him, having to hold onto his shoulders for support.

“I’m proud of you”, he whispers, “you did something incredibly brave when you went against Suzy. I know that it must have been scary to do, so I’m proud of you that you did.”

He wipes your tears away gently.

“But I’m also sorry”, he confesses, “I’m sorry for my misjudgement. If I hadn’t trusted her so blindly, you never would have had to kill her. I’m so angry at myself for trusting her solely because Meredith did. And I’m sorry that you had to experience this.”

“Please don’t apologize. I don’t blame you. Anyone would have believed her. I did so too. As did the others. She had all of us fooled.”

“I guess. I’m just…angry because I never misjudge people.”

“That’s not true. You thought that I’m a spoiled brat and now look at you having a silly crush on me.”

He laughs.

“Oh my god, ___”, he says, looking at you with widened eyes.

“I have a silly crush on you too”, you say and giggle, “we’re both silly.”

“Yeah we are”, he says and giggles. He allows himself to giggle because it’s just you and him right now.

“Ah fuck, Yoongi”, you laugh breathily, “I can’t believe we needed our own little romance movie set to finally open our mouths and talk it out. I was so scared to talk to you.”

“I’m glad we finally talked. I…” he lowers his eyes shyly, “…missed you like crazy.”

“Me too, I missed you so much.”

You nudge him softly, making him lift his head and gaze at your lips.

“Can I give you a kiss?” he asks.

“Yes”, you say, closing your eyes in preparation.

Yoongi does so too, leaning in blindly because he knows that he can find you even in blindness. He will always find you. Always.

It happens naturally that you claim your right on his lap. You claim it loudly and proudly and Yoongi pulls you closer to let you know that you will never ever lose that right.

He shivers when you threat your fingers through his hair and realises that with that shiver his heart was racing unbearably.

“Princess”, he breaks the kiss.

“What?”

He takes your hand and places it over his heart.

“What?” you breathe, sniffling quietly while your lips turn into a pout, “Yoongi…” you meet his eyes, “I can feel your heartbeat.”

He nods his head and smiles, squeezing your hand.

“I don’t understand.”

“I can alter everything in here.”

“Yoongi, oh god”, you spill tears.

“Don’t cry.”

“You know me, I’m so emotional. Gosh, I can’t stop crying. Oh my god, Yoongi you have a heartbeat. Oh and it’s racing so much. Yoongi, I love you”, you say, surprising him with a deep kiss.

He huffs out air in surprise, but closes his eyes quickly, wrapping his arms around you. You keep your hand on his chest, feeling how his heart is racing oh so quickly. So that is how he feels when you kiss. That is just how quickly his heart would beat if he had a pulse.

“What does that mean?” you ask him, “are you human?”

“In a way.”

“Oh Yoongi, I’m so”, you whimper and kiss him.

You never want to stop kissing him again. Never ever again. You are home again. The fireplace is keeping you warm while outside it snows. And Yoongi has a pulse which is racing under your fingertips. You never ever want to leave this place again.

“Yoongi”, you whisper, pushing him down on the sofa. 

Yoongi falls messily, his head misses the armrest by just an inch, now resting on the warmed up fabric while his dark hair sprawls over the pillow. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks, tingling as you run your hands over his chest almost obsessively, “princess…what are you doing?” 

“I just...” you trail off, resting your cheek against his chest. Your ear is pressed against his chest, “oh god, I can hear it. It, it sounds beautiful.”

With a shaky intake of breath you turn your head, kissing his chest oh so tenderly. “I love you, Yoongi. I love you so much”, you whisper shakily.

It makes Yoongi tingle and for his heart to speed up.

“Oh, my love”, you sigh, tugging him back by his shirt. 

Yoongi just manages to close his eyes and you are already kissing him, stealing his breath and in the process his sanity. He didn’t think that his pulse affects you that much. Truly, it affects him as well. It has been too many millennia since he last felt oh so alive. But that it affects you so deeply, Yoongi hadn’t expected it. It moves him. You are so happy for him. It feels so special that you are.

“I love you”, you say in a laughed sob, ruffling his hair by just how deeply you want to bury your fingers in it.

There he is. Yoongi. His truth. His open and vulnerable truth. Here he is with his bleeding heart on the table and his soul bared. And in this moment he realises just how easy it is to show his truest truth to you.

“I love you too”, he whispers, “I love you so much that speaking about it is hard. I think if I loved you less it would be easier, but I can’t”, he cups your face, “I can’t love you less. Just more. More and more each passing day.”

“Oh Yoongi.”

“I love you, ___”, he whispers, falling into a kiss at the same time.

Now you are the one whose back hits the sofa. Yoongi rests himself on top of you, cupping your cheek with his safe, oh so tender hands. The most logical position for your arms would be around his neck, but you just can’t seem to want to break away from his chest, touching him with eager desperation.  

It is Yoongi who breaks the kiss anew, having to get air back in his lungs.

Your breaths mingle. His eyes race between yours just as yours do between his’.

“I’d lose my immortality for you”, he whispers.

“Yoongi…”

He smiles, leaning in to rub the tip of his nose against yours. His thumb dances over your cheekbone, leaving behind a trail of goosebumps.

“No hesitation, none”, he breathes and claims your trembling lips in a kiss.

Maybe that is why he chose to have a heartbeat in his memories. Because he wants to experience how it is to be mortal with you. Even if it is nothing but pretend and even if his real body was still cursed by unbreakable immortality, in here where the air is warm and you are finally home again, Yoongi can pretend to share mortality with you.

And this fact makes him kiss you even deeper. Because right now he knows that moments as precious as this one are numbered by the days his heart decides to keep beating for.

“You shouldn’t say that”, you break the kiss, caressing his lips with your thumb, “don’t give up your powers for me.”

“I don’t want them. I never did. Just one life with you. That’s all I want.”

“I know just…I’d give up my mortality for you, Yoongi. So you need to stay eternal with me.”

“Don’t give it up.”

“Why not?”

“Just…“ he exhales shakily, “being alive is the most precious thing you can be.”

You smile, “no, Yoongi”, you cup his face, “the most precious thing I can be is to be by your side.”

Yoongi feels tears well up in his eyes and his lower lip tremble.

“Forever”, you add in a whisper.

“My love”, he croaks, holding back sobs.

“Don’t cry my beloved”, you soothe him, which only makes him want to cry harder.

He feels so guilty for ever thinking about using the blade on himself. Taehyung was right, you were planning on staying alive and he should do the same. He should plan his happiness with you instead of thinking about dying. He can die another day, right now he has a life to live.

“I’m happy”, he presses out and buries his face in your neck. He sobs softly, shoulders shaking.

“I’m happy too, Yoongi”, you answer him, cradling him tightly.

“I want to live”, he confesses and laughs all while he is sobbing.

You don’t quite understand what he is talking about, but it makes you smile nonetheless. You thread your fingers through his hair and ruffle it softly.

“I want to live so fucking bad”, he presses out, convulsing in a sob before he hugs you so tightly, you wonder if he wants to merge with you.

“Well, I’m glad you do, because I won’t let you die for a long time. Hear me? We still got so much stuff to do and so many places to go.”

“Yes, I’ll take you there. I’ll do it. All of it. I’ll do it”, Yoongi babbles, nodding his head vigorously.

“And a billion more cuddles to do, hear me?”

“Yes, I do”, he says and sobs so miserably you feel worried.

“Gosh Yoongi, what’s wrong? Why are you crying?” you ask him, rubbing his shaking back.

He dismisses you with a shake of his head. He can’t tell you what was wrong, because he has no idea why he is actually crying. Relief over having you back. Happiness over being with you. Guilt for even considering ending his life. Grief over his lost chance at mortality. Or maybe he feels all of it at the same time. Perhaps however he simply realised that he loves you more than mortality and that he would do anything to keep you with him. And that realisation feels like medicine to his broken heart.

And so it happens that after that cry, he stays close to you. His head rests on the pillow, his chest is atop of yours and like this, you can feel each other’s heartbeats. Yoongi feels at peace like this.

“Can you tell me why you cried like this?” you ask him softly, playing with his hair.

“I love you”, he whispers.

“That is why you cried?”

He nods his head.

“Oh, my love you are so sweet.”

“I feel so tired now.”

“No wonder, you cried a lot.”

The ground shakes under you.

“What was that?” you gasp, holding him closer.

Yoongi takes a look to the side. You turn. The windows are disappearing right before your eyes.

“What is happening?” 

“You’re falling asleep.”

“No”, you draw closer, “Yoongi, I don’t want to leave yet. I have so much to talk to you about.”

“It’s okay. We’ll see each other again.”

“But I’m not ready. I don’t want to leave home. Yoongi, please make me wake up again.”

“I can’t. I’m sorry.”

The colour disappears from the world.

“Yoongi”, you touch his chest, clutching him oh so tightly.

“Don’t fight it”, he whispers, “we’re just changing locations.” 

“I don’t want to leave you. P-please don’t make us leave”, you beg, pressing your hand to his chest desperately. You have to feel it. Feel all of it. His heartbeat. You don’t want to lose it yet.  

“You won’t. We’ll slip away from here and meet each other in our dreams again.”

“No, Yoongi but your pulse”, you feel oh so close to tears.

“It’s okay. I don’t need a pulse to feel alive. I have you.”

The fire stops crackling and you realise that the void of nothingness is inching closer and closer.

“Yoongi.”

“It’s okay. We’ll meet again in our dreams. Don’t be afraid.”

“I don’t want to leave.”

“It’s okay, just close your eyes and you won’t feel a thing. We’ll meet again, I promise.”

“We can?”

“Yes, I will make sure that we can.”

“We’ll surely meet?”

“Yes, just close your eyes.” 

You do. You close your eyes. You tingle then. You tingle so incredibly much.

And then you fall asleep with Yoongi following you after making sure that your meeting place was set.

[epiclamer]

Whumpees taking care of each other anyone?

Spiteful

Justice. Something Hero fought to bring to their city streets every day, but couldn’t care to fight to earn it for themselves.

They had been used and abused and worked until their legs gave out. They fought tooth and nail for their pay check twice a month just to receive the measliest dollars the agency had to give. They sat in the shower until the water ran cold, trying to wash the blood from their uniform, unsure of whom it belonged to.

Always giving; people drained them dry. Left for dead in abandoned alleyways or stripped of everything they had for performance reasons. It didn’t matter. They were reduced to a shell of a human being after it all. A shell that worked all day and sat empty all night. Every time they closed their eyes they saw flashes of everything again and again and again.

Reliving everything at night was worse than mulling it over every morning. At least they could tear themselves from the flashbacks if they were awake, nightmares weren’t kind enough to allow one that option.

A knock on the door sounded to their left, it barely registered through the fog that clouded the hero’s mind. They couldn’t bother to get up. It was probably a solicitor. Odd at this hour, but not impossible.

When it sounded again, slightly more urgent, Hero’s numbness was overcome by pure rage. They were angry. They were furious. They couldn’t explain why. But they were.

They shot up from their seat on the couch, storming over to their front door and ripping it open, sending the figure on the other side tumbling back. One millisecond away from shouting in their face when they recognized the terrified face at their feet.

Villain.

Hero didn’t have to think twice before they put their full force into aiming to slam the door on the other. Villains foot catching it with just a sliver of room left as they winced, feeling the wood bash into their ankle. For a moment they looked hopeful, like they had caught the break of a century, but the hero was not so easily deterred, and in their fit they slammed the door over and over and over again until the villain retreated their foot in pain.

Finally, the door clicked into its frame with a bang and Hero slipped the lock shut. Turning their back to their enemy and heading back to their seat on the couch.

Yet their rest didn’t last much longer than a minute. Their dissociative state interrupted by the villain crashing in through the window.

Their first instinct was to kill the villain. However, the moment the thought reached their rational brain they almost threw up.

It was only a confirmation that they were falling apart. That sooner than later they’d lose everything to a plea of insanity and they’d die. The agency couldn’t keep someone as valuable as a hero out on the streets with precious information, they were a loose end.

Heroes weren’t allowed to retire. They bowed their head to a bullet before they ever got the chance to be free.

Maybe that’s what was wrong with them. Maybe Hero was too aware of the agency watching their every move. Keeping track of their vitals, forcing them to take lie detector tests, controlling their income, monitoring their diet. Maybe the stress was killing them from the inside out.

“I didn’t… didn’t know where-else to go—” Villain cutoff with a pained breath. Clutching their stomach with a vice-like grip in one hand and their ankle in the other.

The hero’s demeanour stayed numb, not angry any longer just a husk of their former self once more. Standing to their full height, Hero approached the villain on the floor. Taking note of the blood on their costume and coating their hands, they watched a glimpse of their past cloud their vision and suddenly felt sick.

They didn’t kneel down, they didn’t inspect or rush to care for the villain, they didn’t and they wouldn’t. “The day you betrayed me you gave up all rights to ever being allowed near me again. Let alone in a friendly manner like whatever the fuck you think this is.”

Villain gasped, their pain seeming less and less manageable by the minute. Hero stayed unbothered, not even the tone in their voice strayed an octave. “Y-You shut me out…”

“I shut you out because you broke my trust. Tell me, Villain, why would I ever let you in?”

“I-I don’t need a fucking l-lecture.” The criminal hissed, clenching their jaw to bite their tongue. “I’m a villain, i-it’s what I do.”

Hero’s attention strayed from the conversation, head filing through first-aid reciprocals as they walked casually towards their kitchen. Opening the top right cupboard and pulling out the medical kit before turning back—almost robotically—and dropping it by the villain’s side.

They snatched it up faster than the speed of light, taking their advantage while the hero was friendly enough to offer it. They weren’t going to test their luck at seeing how long until the other would pry it back from their hands, dangling it above their head while they struggled to stay alive. Villain shivered, they wouldn’t push it, they needed the help.

Swallowing the lump in their throat as their shaky hands peeled back the layers of their suit to reach the wound, Villains eyes watched their enemy intently. The way their eyes were blank, their movements heavy and accounted for, head lulled slightly forwards as well as a hunch in their spine as they sat back down on the couch.

“You look l-like shit.”

The crime-stopper didn’t react. Villain wasn’t even sure if they had been heard.

Speeding through the rest of their stitches and patchwork, once Villain was semi-sure they wouldn’t rip and their bandages would hold, they stood up. Making sure to avoid any pressure on their bad ankle as they hobbled to the hero’s kitchen with the open first-aid kit.

They zipped the bag closed after they had shoved everything inside and dumped it under the sink. Hero would find it if they needed it, just might take them a second or two.

It only took a brief once over of the hero’s food supply for the villain to pull out their phone, dialling the nearest take-out place they could find. “I’m ordering pizza.”

“That’s not agency approved for my diet—” Villain was practically relieved at the provoked reaction from their nemesis.

Still alive. Barely.

“I don’t give a fuck. I’m buying pizza and you’re going to eat it.” Stepping over to the couch they placed their phone on the back of it, balancing the screen on the plush pillows. Their—now free—hands made their way to the Hero’s shoulders, gently and carefully kneading at the muscles. “And you’re going to be grateful and pretend to like it no matter what, understood?”

Hero couldn’t repress the way their mouth watered or their stomach grumbled at the thought. “I hate you.”

And the line finally picked up.

[devastatedloyallute]

Chapter 5 of Bigger Than The Whole Sky -Guitarspear fic

Chapter Summary: Lute second guesses her decision to take Abel home with her. How can she take care of a child while barely caring for herself? Read here on AO3 💕

The air surrounding her was suffocating, flames inched closer with every step Lucifer took forward.

“Haven’t you done enough?!” Lute cried as she lay over Adam’s lifeless body. Her heart pounded in her chest, there was ringing in her ears, and her vision started to go black. 

“Take the remnants of your troops and leave! If you return, there will be Hell to pay,” the demonic voice boomed. 

Lute paused only for a moment before she stood and awkwardly tried to adjust her balance to carry Adam’s body.

A low chuckle escaped Lucifer’s throat, “You don’t really expect to make it back there and while carrying a body twice the size of yourself, do you?”

Her breath shuttered as she understood that he was right. The adrenaline rush, and her remaining strength, had started to fade. She laid Adam on the ground and placed her forehead to his. “Fuck, Adam I’m… so sorry,” As tears dripped off her cheeks and onto his. She drew in a deep breath and rose to her feet. 

She took off fast into the sky, not wanting to look back. She already regretted fleeing like this, so cowardly. How could she just leave him like that? No, she has to go back. They can’t just get away with this!

As she turned her head to look back, what she witnessed was far worse than she could have imagined. Cannibals. The cannibals were tearing into him. Some fighting over limbs, an ear, anything they could. All of the color drained from her face and her eyes widened. 

“ ADAM- ”

Lute shot up in bed, drenched in sweat. She brought her hand to her chest and tried to steady her breathing. It was just a dream, a very vivid dream. She could hear the pitter patter of little feet coming from the hallway. 

“Mama? Are you okay? I heard you yell dad’s name…were you having a bad dream?” Abel asked as he clambered his way onto the bed and sat beside her.

Lute fell back onto the bed with her arm over her eyes, “Yeah, but I’ll be alright, sorry for waking you. You should go back to bed, it’s late.”

Abel nuzzled himself beside her and hugged her side, “Back at the daycare, sometimes new kids would have nightmares because it was their first night in Heaven. Elle, the nanny there, told us that nightmares in Heaven are really rare. And that they don’t happen much because nightmares are afraid of angels.”

The room was silent as Lute tried to regain her composure. ‘ Angels ward off nightmares, huh? ’

“When me and my brother were little, dad would sleep next to us when we had bad dreams. I guess even before he got into Heaven he was an angel, keeping our bad dreams away. So I’ll sleep next to you to keep the nightmares away! I know dad would want me to keep you safe, mama.”

Lute shifted to her side and pulled Abel in close to her. She didn’t dare speak, the lump in her throat was becoming difficult to fight back. She just squeezed him tightly and kissed his head.

An hour had passed, but sleep had not come for Lute. She looked at the sleeping boy under her wing. This sweet, precious little boy. Adam’s boy. 

Adam. Fuck, Adam. She lost her partner, and now she has taken on the decision to be a parent on top of that, what a ridiculous idea this was. She could have let him live blissfully unaware back at the daycare. Make up some excuse for why they couldn’t go visit him or something. But no, she had to be honest. Worst mistake yet. 

Mistake. Right, angels don’t make mistakes . This was a choice. But was it the right choice?

She shook the thought from her head, and gave Abel a peck before she headed for the shower. Maybe that will help clear her thoughts.

Lute turned the shower to lukewarm, stepped in and once she got used to the water, she turned the temperature up higher. The hot water felt comforting, but at the same time reminded her of her recent time in Hell. Another good thing ruined. No matter, she’ll just wash her hair and get out. ‘ Just the running water is enough to be clean, right? ’ That’s all she can manage right now, just getting in the shower is better than not.

She grabbed her shampoo bottle, and was about to pour the shampoo into her hand when it registered that the hand she was going to pour the liquid into was not there. ‘ Shit, right. How did I forget that? Ugh. ’ She poured some onto the top of her head and started to rub it in the best she could. Just another reminder of how fucking pathetic she was. 

Pathetic. That’s what she was. If only she would have taken care of that traitor. If she hadn't let herself get outplayed and trapped under debris. Or if she had acted quicker and tore her arm off faster, maybe she would have been able to get to Adam sooner, before Lucifer had showed up. She could have helped him. Protected him. If she had just killed Vaggie she wouldn’t have had to wrestle to stop her from helping the Hell Princess. So many ifs. Failures. She was a failure. She failed. And she hated it.

If it were not for the water running cold, Lute wouldn’t have noticed the warm tears down her cheeks. She wiped them away as she turned the shower off. How long had she been in there? ‘ The hot water can run out in Heaven? That’s just cruel. ’

She began drying herself off, but remembered she didn’t bring any new clothes in with her. She clumsily attempted to rewrap her stump, fiddled with getting the towel to stay around her, and found her way back to the bedroom. Thankfully, Abel was still asleep. 

She took a pair of underwear and a pair of leggings from her dresser. Hesitant, she reached for one of Adam’s casual shirts. He didn’t wear them often, but he still had them. She stared at the drawer of shirts for an excessive length of time before finally taking one. Once she had gathered her clothes, she headed back to the bathroom to get dressed. 

Lute looked at herself in the mirror. She remembered how Adam would gush about her wearing his clothes. Comment how his shirts were like a dress on her. He couldn’t keep his hands to himself when she wore them. 

These memories were not appreciated right now. ‘ This was a bad idea…Maybe I just won’t look in the mirror anymore. ’ She sighed and walked out to the living room to sit on the couch with a book. ‘ Who needs sleep, it’s almost morning now anyway. ’

About two hours later, Abel came into the living room, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Morning, mama. Did the nightmares come back?” He asked as he sat beside her on the couch.

Lute gave him a soft smile, “No buddy, they didn’t. Thank you for keeping them away.” Of course she didn’t have another nightmare, hard to have one when you’re awake. “Let me finish this chapter and we can make breakfast.”

“Can we have pancakes?”

“With syrup?” Lute questioned, knowing the answer already.

“Obviously! You need syrup with pancakes!” He giggled.

“Then yes, yes we can have pancakes.”  ---------------------------------------------------------------

As Abel helped clean up from breakfast, there was a soft knock at the door. Lute answered the door, to be met with Emily.

“Good morning, Lute! How have you been?” Emily beamed with more energy than anyone should have at any time of day. “Oh, it looks like you’ve already rewrapped your arm!”

“Yeah, sorry. I’ve had a bit of a long morning. I had forgotten you were coming today.”

“You didn’t do too bad with it! I’m impressed, Lute!”

Abel came up behind Lute, “All done, mama! Oh, who’s this?” Abel looked up at Emily with awe, “She’s pretty!”

“Ohmygosh! I could ask you the same! Ohmygosh you’re adorable!” She knelt in front of him and squished his cheeks, “Aren’t you a little cutie! Why, you almost look just like…” Emily paused and looked up at Lute, her face crestfallen. Emily’s smile faded and she looked back at Abel, “...Just like Uncle Adam.”

Abel gave her a sheepish smile, “Yeah…he’s my dad.”

Emily covered her mouth in surprise. "Oh, oh I'm so sorry-"

Lute cut her off as she set her hand on Abel’s head, “Thanks for helping clean up breakfast, buddy. This is Emily, one of the seraphim sisters. She’s been coming by every couple days to change my bandages, since I have difficulty doing them myself.” She’d have to explain to Emily later as to why she had Abel, or maybe not. It's not her business to know.

“Oh okay, um…Miss Emily? Do you think you could show me how to change them? So I can help mama even if you’re busy?” Abel asked nervously.

“Aww! How sweet of you! Of course I can show you! Lute, you won't mind if I redo your bandages, right?” Emily asked as she stood.

“Nope, go right ahead. I did a pretty shitty job anyway. Probably wouldn’t last long as it is.”

Emily showed Abel how to properly wrap the bandages around Lute’s wound, she let him wrap it by himself. He was so proud of himself for being able to help with this. Even if the majority of the bleeding had stopped, the bandages helped to keep the area clean and stop Lute from picking at the scabs.

“Well, I guess I’ll be off then! Please let me know if there’s anything I can do to help!” Emily stood in the doorway as she waved goodbye.

“Will you be coming back? We could have a playdate! If you aren’t too busy that is. You’re a higher up angel so you probably are really busy…” Abel smiled and waved at her.

“I will for sure! Take care you two, bye!” They waved as Emily flew off. 

Lute let out a sigh as she dropped herself onto the couch. Her eyelids felt heavy. Maybe a short nap would be beneficial. Abel snuggled up at her side, “Nap time?”

“Mhm,” Lute sleepily mumbled as they dozed off to sleep.

---------------------------------------------------------------

It had been three months now since Lute brought Abel home.

On this particular day, Abel was insistent on the all possibilities of seeing his father again. He sat at the kitchen table, drawing out his ideas.

“Maybe when angels die, they get reincarnated! Like they get sent back to Earth to repeat the cycle, so…So maybe one day dad will see us again! I wonder if that’s the same for those people who went to Hell…If when they die down there maybe they get to have a second chance and get sent to Earth to do better! Or, or! If they understand what wrongs they did to go to Hell, and can make better choices, maybe they can come to Heaven!”

“Enough, Abel!” He was taken aback by her raised voice and sheepishly cowered. “Sinners do not get a second chance! They fucked up, so they get what they deserve! And that’s it! Wherever you got these ideas from, you need to forget them. Sinners don’t change. They rot in the mistakes they made until they die again.”  

Abel recoiled and looked at her, trying to understand why she was so upset. He couldn’t make sense as to why she had such an outburst. He got up from his chair and walked towards his room, “I’m sorry, mama.”

Lute dropped her head onto the table, tossing her arm around her head. ‘ Fuck. Fuck, shit. Why does he have to share the same mentality of the Hell Princess, it’s just so infuriating! ’ 

After a few minutes, she lifted her head and reached for the drawing Abel was working on. It had Adam with a couple figures who have angel wings, but also devil horns and tails. The stereotypical looking demon features, but it was what it symbolized that mattered. She pinned the paper onto the fridge with a magnet.

‘ Ugh…I shouldn’t have snapped at him for being an optimist .’ She should apologize. Another moment of weakness, how pathetic. These last months have really taken their toll. 

Lute knocked on the open door of Abel’s room, “Hey…may I come in?”

The small boy was sat on his bed with his back to the doorway, his little white wings curled around himself. A small whimper was his acknowledgement of her request.

She gently sat on the other side of his bed, “Abel, I…I’m sorry I lost my temper earlier. It’s just…it’s been tough with everything that’s happened. I know you miss your dad…and I do too. But sometimes, things don’t work the way we hope they will…Some things just aren’t meant to be.”

Abel scooted close to her and laid his head against her when she outstretched her wings around them. “I know, mama. I just was trying to make you feel better…and maybe really just make myself feel better too. Thinking about happy things makes me feel better when I’m sad. But that doesn’t seem to make you feel better…I won’t talk about those things anymore. I am sorry, mama, I really am…”

Lute placed a kiss to the top of his head before she rested her head on his, “You don’t have to apologize for this. I was the one in the wrong.” There weren’t any words she could say to make this situation any less painful. He’s only a child. A child who had only months ago reconnected with and subsequently lost his father. 

She still felt guilty. Though she had swallowed her pride and apologized, the guilt remained. They both had gone through a lot in such a short period of time, but they will get through it together. Be strong for each other, right?

“Hey, mama? Can we take a nap? Big emotions make me sleepy,” Abel yawned.

Lute laid back with him in her arm, “Of course, buddy. Naps are a good way to help handle big feelings.”

---------------------------------------------------------------

Four months had passed since bringing Abel home from the daycare. Lute and Abel lay on the floor in the collapsed remnant of what was once a pillow fort in the center of the living room. A knock at the door came unexpectedly. 

“It’s unlocked!” Lute announced from the floor.

“I can get it,” Abel scrambled to his feet and dashed for the door, opening it to find Emily looking disheveled.

“Woah, you okay? Where’s the fire?” Lute said as she righted herself and made her way to Emily in the doorway.

Emily shook her head and pointed to her phone frantically, “I just talked to Charlie. It took me a while to sneak into Sera’s phone to get Lucifer’s number, but I needed to so that I could get Charlie’s number.” 

Lute looked at her like she was nuts, “Why did you come all the way here just to tell me you spoke to the Hell Princess?”

“I had to let Charlie know that her hotel really works!” 

“A hotel?” Abel looked between the two angels, perplexed.

Lute’s jaw dropped, “What? How is that possible?” 

Emily shook her head again, “I’m not sure, but someone who was a resident there has arrived here! Sera told me to keep it a secret but I just couldn’t, I really needed to let her know about this.”

Lute looked at her skeptically, “And you came to me because…?”

“Charlie told me that Adam has been staying at the hotel!” 

Lute felt her heart drop and an intense chill cover her body. ‘ Adam is alive? But how? I watched him die. I was there. He died. ’ Lute’s feathers ruffled as she grew agitated,  “Are you fucking with me? Is this some kind of sick joke?”  

“Will someone tell me what’s going on?!” Abel cried, not having any clue what they’re talking about. He turned to Emily, hoping for an answer, “Is my dad really alive? How? Why isn't he here?”

“I don’t know how, but Charlie and I agree that if a soul in Hell can be redeemed, then the opposite is also true. A soul in Heaven could be condemned to Hell,” Emily explained.

“Redeemed? Like, they were forgiven?” Abel’s face lit up when the angel nodded in agreement. “ I knew it! I knew it was possible! That’s awesome, right, Mama?” 

He looked over to see Lute still processing the information that was received. Her face was void of expression while she contemplated.

 “Mama?” Abel reached out to her, his touch snapping her out of her trance.

She looked at Emily with determination in her eyes, “…Will you take me to him?”

Emily tensed her hands into fists, “Um, yeah I think I can! I’m not too skilled at portals but I can give it my best shot!”

“I’m coming too!” Abel shared in the enthusiasm, but as Lute set her hand on his shoulder and knelt beside him, he knew she was going to tell him no.

“I’m sorry buddy, but Hell isn’t a safe place. There are still bad people down there. They don’t like people like us down there.”

“So what am I supposed to do? Stay here by myself?”

“I can get a hold of one of my...coworkers, and have her come stay with you. Or you could go visit your friends at the daycare while I’m away?”

“I’ll go see my friends...Are you going to come back for me?” Abel’s eyes didn’t leave the floor as he spoke.

“Of course I will. And if Adam is alive, I’m going to drag his sorry ass back up here,” Lute  rose to meet Emily’s gaze. “I just need to see this for myself, until then I’m not believing a word of it. If this is some sort of trap, so help me…”

“It’s not, I promise! I’m just as shocked as you!” Emily put her hands up defensively. “At least…I don’t think it is, why would Charlie lie to me?” 

---------------------------------------------------------------

[iwritesickfic]

Surprise, part 2

(part 1 here!)

It's a difficult night. Very difficult. Theo can't seem to get to any consistent sleep, which means Seamus can't sleep either. Sometime around 2 or 3 in the morning his throat is too sore to speak again, though his delirious mind doesn't quite understand, so for the brief time he is asleep, he's trying to talk. Whether they're dreams or nightmares Seamus can't tell, just that Theo murmurs in an endless string, only quieting when Seamus strokes his hair and hushes him.

He falls asleep sitting up, Theo between his legs, curled against his chest, and sleeps so deeply he wakes up in exactly the same position when his alarm sounds at 8 the next morning.

The first thing he registers is the scalding, shivering body on his chest, chapped lips moving wordlessly. He tries not to wake him as he reaches for his phone to turn off the alarm, but Theo jolts awake with a shaky breath.

“Shh, shh,” Seamus says, almost automatically, and Theo makes a hoarse sound before coughing weakly. “Don't talk, baby.”

Theo pushes himself up, wincing as he swallows. He opens his mouth again, as if to speak, before closing it. He starts to look around, like he's missing something.

“What?” Seamus asks, and Theo points at the phone in his hand. “Here,” he says, handing Theo his phone from where he left it on the bedside table.

His hands are trembling as he does whatever he needs to do, and Seamus kisses him as he gets out of bed, stretching. He's so stiff from sleeping in such an odd position, and more than a little sweaty. His neck cracks as he reaches his arms up. He desperately needs a shower before Theo’s doctors come over. Theo probably needs one too, but Seamus doubts he has the energy for it.

A robotic voice half startles him - “what the fuck is going on?” Seamus turns around to see Theo with his phone held out to him, open to text-to-speech.

“What do you mean?” He asks back, rolling his stiff shoulders.

Theo looks down at his phone, fingers shaking as he types, before the stilted female voice starts again. “I have a million missed calls from Emma and Z.”

He doesn't look angry, just exhausted. Seamus sighs and sits on the edge of the bed.

“I told Emma last night I thought they should cancel the shows until next week,” he pauses, looking at Theo’s face for any sign of anger or frustration but finding none. “I know it's not my choice but I really, really think you should consider it. I made a couple doctor appointments this morning too, I think you might just need your tonsils out.” He cups Theo’s cheek, his skin burning beneath his palm. He looks completely miserable, totally sapped of energy.

He looks down at his phone, typing for a while before pressing play again.

“I want that so bad but they're never going to let me. I'll have to cancel the rest of tour if I get my tonsils out. also can you please please please make me some tea? my throat hurts like a bitch”

Seamus leans in and kisses him gently, and despite how drained he is Theo kisses him back, resting his forehead on Seamus's as they pull apart. His body follows Seamus's as he pulls away, as if tugged by a magnet.

The only thing Seamus can feel is his heart aching in his chest. It's tight and sore. Part of it is because selfishly, he's missed this so much. To share this tenderness again after so long apart is enough to make him cry. And the other half, of course, is the heart wrenching pain of knowing how sick he is. It's so clear, the way he's so desperate to be close to him. Altogether, it’s almost debilitating. He doesn't want to do anything other than hold him and rest his lips on his temple and stop his shivering. He wants to give Theo exactly what he wants, whatever he wants. But there's too much to be done.

“Everything is going to work out exactly like it should,” he finally whispers. “We’re gonna do what the doctor says and they’ll have to listen, and I'll be with you no matter what.” He forces himself to pull away and stand, Theo’s hand still holding his. “And yes, obviously. What flavor do you want?”

Theo offers him a weak smile before typing again.

“throat coat,” the robotic voice says and Seamus nods, almost laughing.

“Yeah, that'd make sense wouldn't it? Alright, well, I'll be right back, ok?” he says, and Theo nods. He gives him one last kiss on the forehead before going into the closet to throw clothes on. He grabs two of everything from his side of the wardrobe and gives half of it to Theo before heading downstairs.

As he's making his way down, he finally puts his glasses on and takes a look at his phone. He’ll need to cancel everything he has in Ireland for the near future, or convert as much as he can to video meetings. His mind is racing with the logistics of how he's going to make staying in the States work, when he gets a call from Zeke. He picks up within a single ring.

“Hello?” he says as he rounds the corner at the bottom of the stairs, walking into the dark living room.

“Hey, morning. How's it going?” Zeke asks, and Seamus scrubs his hand over his face as he flips the lights on in the kitchen. He puts the phone on speaker as he starts the familiar routine of making tea.

“It's going,” he says, voice clipped. He's still not quite over the anger from last night.

“Look, I'm sorry. It's a very…a very delicate situation. And to be honest, I thought you knew.”

Seamus flicks the kettle on and grabs two of their biggest mugs.

“Of course I didn't know. If I’d known a month ago it never would've gotten this bad. And I wouldn't have been in Dublin jerking my fucking dick,” he says, though it lacks any real bite.

“This isn't your fault,” Zeke says, and Seamus sighs. He leans against the countertop.

“I…” He trails off, then picks up the phone as he heads to the pantry. “I just should've known. I should've been able to tell,” he says, looking through their meticulously organized boxes of tea before plucking out two tea bags and grabbing the bottle of honey. Zeke sighs now, his voice muffled over the phone.

“There’s no way you could've known. Did he say why…” Zeke trails off.

“Because he knew I'd react like I'm reacting. But I'm reacting fine! I'm completely justified.” He keeps rambling before he can stop himself, “His voice could be ruined. He could've fallen off stage and broken his neck or gone septic or ended up in the ER. And honestly I’m not even mad about the what ifs. He's suffering, night after night, for what? For money in the pockets of assholes who don't care if he lives or dies?”

“You know it's more complicated than that, Seamus. C’mon.”

“No, Z. It's not. We can reschedule the dates. I know you have the contingencies reserved already. What are they for if not this? How much sicker does he have to get? Because he’ll get there, and you’ll have to do all this anyway. And it won't be optional.” His hand shakes as he pours the hot water. He takes a deep breath, trying to calm down. “And I know there are people's jobs. Of course I know that, but it's not like we’d leave them high and dry. I wouldn't let that happen at least. And people will be upset but I think they'd be more upset if he fainted in the middle of their precious fucking show.”

“No, I know. Trust me, I’m with you. The promoter and the label are resistant because they'll have to manage a lot of fallout, but I really don't see it affecting the bottom line that much,” Zeke finally says, his voice tired.

“Exactly! Thank you. I mean if it really is an issue of fucking money, I have money. Christ.” He's stirring in the honey now, and forces himself to unclench his jaw.

“It's gonna come down to what the doctors say. Keep me updated, I'm in meetings today trying to figure out what's going on, I'll let you know if we need anything,” Zeke says.

“Ok, thanks. I'll talk to you later,” he says, grabbing a wedge of lemon from the fridge.

“Later,” Zeke says before the line goes dead. Seamus lets out a heavy sigh and rubs his eyes.

–

By the time the doctors have come and gone, Theo's mug’s been refilled four times. He's sitting up in bed now, his damp hair tied in a ragged bun, wearing a hoodie of Seamus's. He looks even more miserable than he did when they first woke up, if that's possible.

The doctor was pretty quickly able to diagnose him with tonsillitis, but what Seamus didn't expect was an abscess. And in turn, Theo needing surgery. Urgently. They’ll need to leave for the hospital in a few hours and likely spend the night, and there's certainly no way he’ll be on stage any time soon.

It's frightening hearing about how severe things really are. The doctor said that only a day or two more without intervention the abscess would've burst and sent him septic. He tries not to think about what would've happened if he didn't come.

Seamus feels terrible for him. He knows the guilt of canceling a show, the weight of letting all those people down, is crushing. And he knows what thoughts must be running through his head - what if he never sings again? What if the surgery goes wrong and his voice is fucked forever? How long will it be before he’s better?

He doesn't bring any of it up, just lets Theo rest against him as they watch reality TV and refills his tea and kisses his forehead. He's so looking forward to the day where his body isn't so nerve-wrackingly hot, but that's not likely to be anytime soon either. Even after they take everything out, he’ll probably have a fever for another five days at least, the doctor said.

“It's normal for it to get steadily worse over the week post surgery, then a huge improvement,” the doctor had said. He'd said a lot of things, and Seamus had tried to write it all down, but he definitely missed most of it.

He's never seen Theo like this. So listless and drained and sick. And silent. Granted, that speaks more to his physical state than mental, but still. Theo always has something to say.

–

Theo is fairly sure this is the worst day of his life. One of the worst, at least. Physically, it's agony. He hurts all over, a throbbing, hot pain in every muscle and joint and bone. He's freezing, he can't get warm, but he's dripping so much sweat that his hair is wet and his shirt is stuck to him. And his throat. His fucking throat. Never, ever has it hurt this bad. Without the oxys or whatever the production medics were giving him every four hours it's unbearable. He dreads swallowing. It's so bad that he finds himself focusing all his energy on trying not to swallow, his tongue feeling heavy and awkward in his mouth as he wills himself to keep still.

Mentally? It's nearly as bad. In a few hours there will be scalpel dangerously close to his vocal chords. 70 thousand people will find out, or have already found out, there won't be a show tonight. Or tomorrow. Or the day after. There’ll be tabloid stories about him in rehab or arrested or some other insane explanation for why he’ll need so much time off.

But right now, he's curled in Seamus's lap, and they're watching something, and all he can really think about is how badly he hurts. And then every so often Seamus will give him a blessedly cool kiss or touch and he’ll be overwhelmed with gratitude. I love you I love you I love you. If he could speak, that's all he'd say.

He came so close so many times in the last month. So close to calling Seamus and begging him to fly to wherever he was and hold him and rescue him from his own personal living hell. One particularly bad night was a rain show in Arizona, and he'd been so sick that day that every time he came off stage they'd take his temperature. He wasn't sure what number he wanted to see after a while. It was pouring the whole night, his clothes soaked while he shook with chills.

At the hotel that night he took a very ill advised hot shower, then laid on the cold tile floor and stared at his phone. If Seamus called now, he told himself, Theo would tell him everything. “How are you, love?” he'd ask in his heavenly voice, and Theo would tell him. “I need you, I'm so sick, I need you.”

Then he'd dream about him. He'd dream of his cool lips and hands, melting through the heat of his fever. But he'd always wake up just as sick. And just as alone. And if he was lucky he'd have a day off to sleep in the sweat soaked sheets of his hotel bed. If he was less lucky, he'd have to be up and performing by 7 that night.

He's beyond grateful now, even though the weight of about a hundred thousand people's disappointments are pressing on his shoulders. They'd probably bought plane tickets, hotel rooms, taken off work, all for a show that he wouldn't be having. The rest of the tour is probably moot, his throat is fucked beyond repair. It'll take months for him to recover.

On the other hand, even a week of dedicated rest sounds unimaginably good right now.

He's drifting in and out of sleep, nestled between Seamus's legs, leaning back on his chest. He'd never move from this spot if he could. But he’ll have to. Eventually.

–

Seamus feels like he's had a thousand cups of coffee as he sits by the side of Theo’s hospital bed. He hasn't, of course. He's barely had water since Theo went into surgery. His nerves feel frayed and his anxiety is in overdrive.

Theo's still asleep from the anesthesia, his body looking so pale against the stark white sheets. His hair sticks out like a sore thumb, vibrant red auburn on the pillowcase.

He's going to be fine, Seamus repeats to himself. The surgery has gone off without a hitch, he's just fine. But Seamus won't really believe it until Theo wakes up.

Nurses have been in and out, most doing a double take at him and their clipboards before talking to Seamus. They all know who he is, and Seamus is just grateful for privacy laws. That doesn't stop random nurses from all over the hospital from coming and peeking their heads in though.

A nurse is adjusting his IV, making idle chit chat with Seamus, when Theo makes a soft sound, his eyes fluttering. Seamus’s throat tightens, and he can't grab Theo’s pale, hot hand fast enough.

His brows are immediately furrowed in pain, and he whimpers softly when Seamus strokes his hair.

“Hey, love,” he whispers, and Theo swallows hard, wincing.

“Hey,” he chokes out, and his hand with the IV tries to fly to his throat before the nurse catches it. “Fuck,” he hisses, squeezing his eyes shut.

“You're ok, you're ok,” Seamus murmurs, running his thumb back and forth over the back of Theo’s hand.

“You want some water, honey?” the nurse asks, and Theo turns his head to look at her.

“S’over?” He mumbles, and the nurse smiles as she finishes securing the IV.

“Yup. Quick as a blink. All done,” she says. “Water?”

Theo nods, and she leaves. He looks back at Seamus.

“That was it?” he asks, and Seamus nods, smoothing some hair off his forehead. He's still so feverish, it makes Seamus's heart clench in worry even though realistically it's no threat anymore.

“You don't have to talk if it hurts. I won't be offended,” he tries to joke, and a smile just barely tugs at Theo’s lips.

“I love you,” he whispers back, and Seamus has to fight to swallow the lump in his throat. He lifts Theo’s hand to his lips and kisses his knuckles. Still unnervingly warm. He makes a soft, contented sound and just stares at him, eyes half lidded. “So beautiful.”

That makes Seamus laugh. His hair hasn't been washed in days, and he's in his spare, thick rimmed glasses.

“Thank you, Teddy,” he says, and strokes his hair back out of his face. There are only a few strands out of place, but it gives him something to do. It gives him an excuse to touch him.

“So fucking gorgeous,” he whispers, looking totally lovestruck. Seamus laughs again, but before he can reply the nurse is back with the water, and Theo gives her a smile as he takes the cup in his shaking hand. “Isn't he just so pretty?” he asks the nurse, and Seamus feels his cheeks heat. She chuckles.

“Definitely. Like a model.” She's making notes on her clipboard.

Theo’s smile widens slightly.

“Mm. I know,” he whispers. “And he's mine.”

“Drink your water,” Seamus says, feeling the heat of a blush on his cheeks. The nurse shoots him a smirk before leaving again. Before Seamus can say anything else, his phone starts to ring. Zeke.

“Hey,” he says, his hand still in Theo’s.

“Hey, what's up?”

“Nothing much. He just woke up. It went well, he should be discharged in a few hours.”

“Awesome, that's a relief. I hate to bother you guys with this but they want some kind of social media post. He can't, um…?” Zeke trails off, and Seamus is glad he seems to understand how stupid the request is. Theo is giving him a look as if to ask who it is and Seamus rolls his eyes in return.

“No, but I'll talk with him and post something. How's everything going over there?”

“It's…ok. It's fine.” There's some muffled conversation in the background, then he can tell Zeke is talking to someone across the room. “Fine! Fine!” he says, before getting closer to the receiver, “Are you there?”

“Yup.”

“They- We all think it'd be good to include a photo. Of him. In the bed.” Zeke’s words are clipped and forced. Seamus sighs.

“Ok, so…” He takes another deep breath. Theo's still staring at him, looking half asleep and half infatuated. “No. We’re not doing that.”

He can almost picture Zeke throwing his head back as he groans.

“Come here,” Theo says in his barely-there voice, and Seamus squeezes his hand.

“It…It gives credibility. It gives sympathy,” Zeke says, clearly parroting back what he was told.

“No, I know. But no one is owed a picture of him like that.”

“Just ask, ok? Just ask him,” Zeke concedes. Theo tugs on his hand.

“Ok, ok. I have to go.”

“Ok, just send us the statement. Soon. Ish. Soon as you can.”

“Ok. Bye.” He hangs up before Zeke even replies.

“Come here,” Theo says again, and Seamus brings his limp fingers to his lips.

“There's no room. When we get home,” he says, and Theo’s big brown eyes soften. Silently begging. “I know. There's no room. And I feel like it's probably against the rules.”

Theo snorts softly.

“There's no rules. I'm famous,” he says, and Seamus laughs again. He's glad he's at least feeling well enough to make jokes. “Just-” He cuts himself off, swallowing hard and wincing, “Just unplug some shit. I don't care.” His voice is growing more wavering and desperate.

“Soon. I promise. How are you feeling?”

Theo shifts in bed.

“Not very good,” he says after a long silence, almost whispering. “It's like… It hurts. Less, but more at the same time.”

Seamus nods like it makes sense, even though he's not sure what he means.

“And I think I might still have a fever,” he mumbles, and Seamus bites his lip. It's glaringly obvious. He lays his palm on Theo’s forehead, even though he already knows. He hums.

“Yeah. Definitely.” It's not quite as bad as it was this morning, but still probably around 102 if Seamus had to guess. “They…” He trails off, reconsidering whether he wants to tell him. “They said it could be a few days before it breaks.”

Theo's mouth tightens.

“Days?” he finally asks. Seamus's heart breaks for the thousandth time. He just nods, and Theo screws his eyes shut. “No. No, I can't…”

“It's gonna be fine. We’ll just lay around and drink tea for a few days. I'll let you wear all my clothes, you can pick what we have for dinner-” Theo shakes his head. “No, it’ll be ok. It will.”

[niallsgoldhoop]

Chapter One

Niall

I’ve always loved the smell of fresh cut grass.

When I was a teenager it usually meant that someone was about to hand me some cash for taking care of their lawn.

Now?

Now it reminds me of how lucky I am to spend my days at my favorite place on earth and call it work.

To call it mine.

Standing with a steaming cup of coffee in my hand, I can’t help but smile as my eyes look out over the perfectly manicured rolling green hills.

“Ready for another day?”

Rory Barnes steps up next to me with his own cup of coffee. When we met years ago, neither one of us expected that one day we would get to work side by side. Hiring him as a general manager has remained one of the best business decisions that I’ve ever made.

“You know I’m always ready.” I laugh. “Anything interesting going on today?”

Rory blows out a breath, the steam from his coffee disappearing. “Not that I know of. I’ve got a few final interviews so that we can hire a new marketing executive since Rhonda retired.”

“Rhonda will be missed. How many people are you down to?” Turning to face him, I drain the rest of my coffee and cross my arms over my chest.

“There’s four.” Keeping his gaze over the vast expanse before us, he smiles. “I think I know who would be the best fit, but I wanted to give everyone the same amount of interviews to try and steal my attention like they have.”

“Whoever you think is best works for me.” My watch vibrates on my wrist with a reminder of a meeting in ten minutes. “I’ve got to get to my office, but just let me know how it goes, okay?”

Lifting his coffee cup in my direction, he smiles. “Have fun with that.”

Laughter mixes between the two of us as I walk away, headed through the oversized glass doors and through the open floor plan of the clubhouse. It’s been four years and every single day that I get to walk on this property it still blows my mind.

As soon as I step into my office, my eyes travel across the awards and trophies and all the way up to the framed green jacket hanging above from my desk.

My office is a highlight of the career that I once had— the one that felt like it was cut short after a few too many surgeries, but also the career that gave me everything that I have now.

Sitting down in the plush chair and reaching for the tortoise shell glasses that sit on my desk, they rest on the bridge of my nose as I pull up the reports and grab a notebook and a pen from the ‘best boss’ mug that one of my employees bought me.

Meetings always seem to be one of my least favorite places to be, but when you own and run a prestigious business it only comes with the territory. So I put on a smile as the screen on my computer fills with other faces, thankful that this is one meeting I don’t have to travel for.

Not that I don’t like to travel, but sometimes it’s nice to be where you are.

It’s nice to be home.

————

If there’s one thing I hate, it’s the grocery store.

At least after work.

Everyone rushes around trying to grab things without paying any attention to their surroundings.

It feels like an actual nightmare every single time.

Usually I make a point to come early on a Sunday morning or just have my groceries delivered, but sometimes there is something I need that just isn’t already in my pantry.

Like ice cream.

That’s the real reason that brought me here yet the basket hanging from my arm is full of other odds and ends.

Mostly things that I definitely don’t need.

Muscle memory takes me closer to the frozen foods, specifically the ice cream I’m desperate for, only when I turn to go down the aisle my body collides with another sending the basket in my arm and theirs crashing to the ground.

In a matter of seconds, the lighter tan color of my pants seems unrecognizable as dark soda explodes at my feet and covers the fabric along with the pickle juice from a broken glass jar.

So not only do I have soda dripping down into my shoes, I now smell like I’ve showered in pickle juice.

“Oh my fucking god, I am so sorry!” The dark haired woman drops to her knees to start trying to pick up the pieces of glass that she can. “I can pay you for new pants— Or to have those cleaned.”

Taking a deep breath through my nose, I crouch down and reach for her hand before pulling it away from the broken glass so that she doesn’t cut herself, an odd sensation zipping through me at the touch. “Don’t worry about it. Accidents happen.”

“No, really.” Rich, chocolate brown hair falls down into her face only for her to push it back behind her ear. “I’m sorry. It was stupid of me to not pay attention to where I was going because I was in a hurry.”

She lists off the exact reason why I didn’t want to come to the grocery store tonight, yet for whatever reason, I can’t find it in me to be annoyed.

Quite the opposite actually.

“It’s not the end of the world, I promise.” Grabbing the things from my basket and placing them back inside, I stay crouched in front of her. “Are you alright? Hurt anywhere?”

“No, everything is fine.” With a small smile, she follows my actions by placing her things in her basket minus the broken pickle jar and the soda that has soaked into my pants. “I’m not hurt. Well, besides my pride at least.”

“You sure?” I ask as we both stand up. “I’d hate for you to be hurt.”

Looking from her left to her right, she takes a step back from me with a tight smile on her full pink lips. “Yeah, I’m sure. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine.” I smile. “Besides my pants.”

“Really, I can pay for—“

Waving my hand in front of my face, I give her another smile of my own. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Okay.” Her dark chocolate gaze drops down to her basket full of snacks and a couple pints of ice cream. “Have a good night.”

With that she turns on her heel and makes her way out of the aisle faster than I may have seen anyone move before, leaving me standing alone at the scene of the crime.

Alone and covered in soda.

And smelling like pickles.

————

THE FIRST CHAPTER!!!!

let me know what you think!!

-Alex 🍀

ps i know this is SO SHORT but i’m gonna update the other chapters too!!

[jungkookslipring]

I Will Never Make You Lonely: CH 2

Summary: When your life is falling apart, your 8 best friends are there to lift you up

TW: mentions of de&th, su!c!de, su!c!de tendencies, su!c!dal ideologies, depress!on, anxiety, crying. If this is in any way triggering I’d steer towards more of my happier works. 

If you or someone you love has thought of or acted on suicide, there is help and there is hope 

Call or text 988

Genre: angst, hurt/comfort, non-idol AU

PSA: this is no way represents the artists. While their birth names are used in this story, this is in no way a reflection of the artist or artists in real life.

AU: this chapter is a little more lighthearted, but I wanted to add the trigger warnings just in case.

there is a tickle scene in here, so if it's not your cup of tea you are more than welcome to skip this chapter.

Ch 2

The last seven days have felt slow and dreadful, and all you could do was work. You were currently in the fourth week of your final quarter with midterms coming up soon. Although your friends have their own school work to worry about, they are starting to become worried about you. You haven't shown any signs of emotion since you received that phone call.

You would spend 12 to 16 hours each day reading, writing, deleting, and editing. However, when it was time for bed, you couldn't sleep. And even if you managed to sleep, you would have very vivid nightmares. As a result, more than half of the time, you would keep yourself busy by burning through homework assignments and projects.

Sometimes the guys would bring you food, drinks, or snacks because they knew you wouldn’t do it yourself, and you were now approaching a no-sleep streak of almost 72 hours. You truly didn’t know how you were still functioning, and they didn’t know either. One evening you were sitting at your windowsill, reading yet another case study. You closed your eyes for a split second before your heart nearly jumped out of your butt when Hyunjin, Han, and Minho burst into your room. You stared at them with your hand over your chest.

"What. the actual fuck is happening?" you ask trying to catch your breath. Hyunjin grabbed your textbook and Han grabbed a hold of your hands.

"Friday night movie night! Don't tell me you were going to skip!" Han said full of energy. Right, movie night. On any given day they would jump on your bed and quite literally drag you away from whatever you were doing so you could all binge-watch movies until the early AM, but Chris had warned them to leave you alone because you were studying. That didn't work out so well.

"If you want to study you can, we just thought you deserved a break," Minho said kindly. Han stood there swinging your arms side to side, patiently waiting for an answer.

"You haven't taken a proper break for days, y/n, and sleeping doesn't count as a break, which we know you haven't gotten a whole lot of either," Hyunjin said as he thumbed the dark circle under your eye gently. You exhaled and closed your eyes. All the shock mixed with not getting any sleep was not only mentally draining but also physically.

“I’m fine, I don’t sleep a whole lot anyways,” you said, shrugging it off, but if you spent the rest of the night studying, you were going to collapse, and the boys knew that. They suggested that you take a nice hot shower and meet them in the living room for some much-needed best-friend time. Seungmin was already on a mission to get your shower bomb that made the entire bathroom smell super citrusy and lit a candle to provide a little bit of light so that the overhead light wasn't so bright. After the shower, you walked into the bedroom and saw a pair of folded pajamas that were warm from just being pulled out of the dryer and placed on the bed. You felt so much love for those boys. There was a gentle knock at the door once you were dressed.

“Come in,” you called out. The door cracked open as Minho poked his head in the door frame. 

“I made soup if you would like any,” he said sweetly. You gave him a smile as you whispered “Thank you”. He had sad eyes and a kind smile, he knew (they all knew) how hard you were taking everything. Minho slowly pushed past the door and walked up to you. 

“Aigoo…” he whispered as he cupped your face, studying your features.  

“You must be exhausted." You nodded and looked down at the floor.

“Would you like to eat? Even if it’s just a bite or two?” he asked. You nodded slowly as he carefully took a handful of your sweater paw and led you out of your bedroom. As you stepped out of the hallway into the kitchen, you noticed that the boys were scattered in the living room. They were having soup while the TV was on low volume, making sure not to be too loud. When you walked in, they greeted you with sweet smiles. Minho handed you a bowl of soup and led you to the couch. Changbin patted the spot between him and Han, inviting you to sit. You weren't sure which movie they had picked, but it managed to distract you. After you finished your soup, Han took your bowl while Changbin snuggled you close to his side. Han came back and stroked your hair while cooing at the both of you.

“Our baby,” he said sweetly.

“She’s not a baby, she’s older than you,” Changbin jokingly sassed at Han. Han put a hand over his heart and made the most extra gasp he had ever made. You giggled and patted Changbin’s hand.

“I’m older than you too you know,” you say while trying to hide a smile. Everyone in the room burst out laughing as Changbin gave you a look of betrayal.

“By two months!” he squawked at you as he began to poke your sides. You giggled as you buried yourself further between Changbin and the couch cushions, trying to get away from Changbin’s hands.

“Oh no, you’re not going anywhere missy!” Changbin laughed as he pulled you onto his lap. He held you in his arms as he squeezed your side with one hand.

“Bihihin quit ihihihihit,” you giggled trying to fold in on yourself. Your arms were trapped under his so your whole midsection was exposed while Han grabbed a hold of your ankles to hold you down. You squeaked when Chris got on the couch, plopping himself right next to your hips, and pressed his fingers into your tummy, turning your giggles to laughter. 

“Awww there’s that laugh we love so much, tickle tickle tickle,” he teased as his eyes turned into beautiful little crescents. 

“YOU GUYHAHAHAHA YOU GUYS ARE SO BAHAHAHAHAD!” You threw your head back on Changbin’s shoulder as you continued to squeal while the boys cooed at your reaction. As the movie played on, three of the boys tickled and teased you while the rest looked on with adoration. It was heartwarming to see you smile again since they had missed it. After a few minutes, Chris and Changbin stopped tickling you, and you resumed cuddling with Changbin while Han kept your feet on his lap and tapped a beat on your calves. The group ended up having a movie marathon, with occasional pokes and squeezes from Changbin and Han.

As your favorite movie played on, Changbin noticed that you were starting to fall asleep on his chest. He began to play with your hair, alternating between massaging your head, rubbing his hand up and down your back, and gently running his fingers through your hair. The soft touches on your head and back and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat helped you fall into a peaceful sleep. Once you were asleep, Changbin nudged Han and pointed to you, indicating that you were out. Han quietly cooed at you and signaled everyone else that you were asleep. By the time the last movie had ended, it was almost 9 p.m., and Chris suggested that everyone should rest. Changbin picked you up and carried you to your bed without waking you up. He tucked you in, gave you a soft kiss on the forehead, turned off the lights, and closed the door.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

Stay tuned for CH 3!

taglist: @felixmainacc @felixburneracc @myforevermelody143 @dunno-wut-to-do @itzsana-kiddingmenow

[obsessedwithtoomanythings]

The Terrifying Ordeal of Falling in Love with Leon Kennedy

CHAPTER 9

Pairing: Leon Kennedy x Reader (female reader)

Series Warnings: Minor injuries, Leon teases reader a lot, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining, Drinking, Drinking followed by driving, DO NOT DO THAT THIS IS FICTION, Anxiety, Leon S. Kennedy has PTSD, Leon has an anxiety attack, Anxiety Attacks, Swearing, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Nightmares, Leon S. Kennedy has Nightmares, Cuddling & Snuggling, Probably incorrect medical talk, Strangulation in one tiny little scene, Reader's brother was a cop who was KIA, Slow Burn, Slow Build, Grief/Mourning, Christmas Fluff, Mistletoe, Fluff and Smut, Eventual Smut, Arguing, Love Confessions, Looking for Alaska is mentioned, Inconvenient Love Confessions, Penis In Vagina Sex, Dirty Talk, Dirty Thoughts, Oral Sex, Cunnilingus, Leon loves eating Pussy change my mind, Shower Makeout, romantic smut, Desperate Leon S. Kennedy, They are both desperate for each other tbh, They say I love you as they come, Scar Kissing, Enthusiastic Consent, Always pee after sex, UTI PREVENTION, POV First Person, No use of Y/N

Words: 2.2K

Masterlist

July 2004

Every little thing she does is magic

Everything she do just turns me on

Even if my life before was tragic

Now I know my love for her goes on

-Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic, The Police

The tin of the light music in the background makes me smile, but Natalie’s god awful singing and her attempt at dancing while 7 months pregnant? Now that makes me laugh. And not just any laugh. A full, abdomen hurting, cheeks pinching howl that brings tears to my eyes.

“Love, you’re going to hurt yourself,” James calls from the couch, hands folded over his waist as he watches his wife with stars in his eyes.

“No I won’t, you big baby!” She yelps, hands finding mine to spin me around in a giggle filled twirl, her bright emerald eyes swirling with the childish energy she carried with her into adulthood. Her cocoa colored hair was tied up 10 minutes ago, but now the strands fall out, flyaways sprouting from every direction.

“Did you want to play rummy, Nat?” James suggests, standing from the couch to tower over the both of us, frame not quite as muscular as Leon, but definitely enough that he could throw two women of our size around easily. She squeals happily rushing to the dining table as quickly as her little waddle will allow, resounding laughs coming from James and I as we follow her. James’ caramel locks flow back, especially more so as he runs his fingers through it, and he smiles at his wife still dancing lightly to the quiet music as he adjusts his glasses on his nose, sitting down and shuffling the deck. The scent of the soup in the crockpot wafting toward us.

“Okay, I swear, I need you at my house every single day to cook cause that shit smells delicious,” she practically moans the words, leaning back in her chair with her hands resting on the table. James starts throwing cards down, dealing us all the cards we need before Natalie gets too carried away with her antics. Three rounds pass, muttered ‘fuck you’s and ‘damnit’s flying around like birds in the sky. James starts dealing cards once more, hitting 7 cards in each pile when I hear the lock click, immediately pulling my attention, confusing Natalie and James for a brief moment. The door opens.

“Leon!” I shout, launching out of my chair toward him. He drops his duffel bag to the ground, completely adjusted to the excited greeting he gets whenever he gets home - if I’m awake, that is. Leon opens his arms, welcoming the hug by wrapping forearms around my waist. It’s hard not to smile and release a tiny snort at my feet being lifted off the ground.

“Hey you.” He sounds drained as he sets me back down, soles landing back on the hardwood floors. I quickly give him a once over, not noticing any outstanding injuries besides a small bruise on the left side of his jaw. “I’m good. Just tired.”

“Hi!” Natalie shouts, standing herself with a huge grin that screams ‘who’s the hunk and why is he in your apartment?’, the sound finally catching Leon’s attention, and he slowly removes his hands from my waist, almost as if he’s self-conscious. I then notice James’ confused glare. That may be why he pulled away.

“Hi, sorry I didn’t realize you had friends over,” he utters, glancing back at me before keeping his eyes trained on James and Natalie.

“I didn’t know you were gonna be home tonight, otherwise I would have planned for them to come another night.”

“To be fair, I didn’t know I was gonna be home tonight.” Natalie clears her throat dramatically and I shoot her an irritated glance.

“So are we gonna get an introduction or…?” She giggles, dopey grin still plastered on her face. I hesitate before speaking, talking to Leon now.

“Are you up for some intros, or do you need some time?”

“I can meet some of your friends, then I really need to-”

“Take your post-mission shower?” I tease and he rolls his eyes in response.

“Hi, I’m Leon.” His hand comes up, offering it to Natalie which she takes surprisingly calm, given her usual excitement. Despite being a chaotic jumble of limbs most of the time, I’m grateful that Natalie can read a room, sensing the man’s energy levels and acting accordingly.

“This is Natalie, my little sister,” I explain and watch as Leon’s eyes light up with recognition.

“Ah, sorry. You look different than the picture we have up.” He gestures to it with his arm. She chuckles.

“It may be my hair,” she suggests sarcastically, hands landing on her baby bump.

“Well, sweetheart, I think I figured out where you learned your sass.” The comment isn’t lost on me and I place a smack against his arm. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice James’ eyes narrow, particularly on the ‘sweetheart’ before he stands. He’s only slightly taller than Leon, but suddenly the testosterone in the room becomes thick enough to choke me.

“Leon, was it?” He asks, and I can practically hear Natalie’s ‘what the hell?’.

“Yeah. You must be Natalie’s husband,” he infers, not taking his eyes off of James.

“James,” he supplies. “And you are?”

“James, he just told you-” But I am cut off.

“Oh, I’m not asking his name.” Oh not this overprotective bullshit again, James.

“James, she’s talked about her roommate before.” Natalie to the fucking rescue. She steps forward, placing a hand on his chest. He deflates a little at her touch, finally breaking the staring contest him and Leon had going on to look at her. The atmosphere calms in an instant as if Natalie had some kind of magical powers. James’ huffs a quick breath before turning back to Leon.

“Sorry man,” he apologizes, offering his hand, which the agent takes gratefully, his own shoulders dropping in relaxation. “I worry about this one,” he adds, gesturing to me with his chin. I roll my eyes at the notion but it’s quickly overshadowed as Leon chuckles.

“Yeah, me too. No big deal.” He worries about me? “I’m gonna take a shower and then probably turn in, it was nice to meet you bo-”

“Do you wanna have dinner with us? I made plenty.” I don’t want him to feel like he has to hide away just cause I have people here.

“I don’t wanna intrude, sweetheart.”

“Nonsense. According to Squish, you’re practically family.” Natalie’s arm slings over my shoulders - almost knocking me off balance - before my cheeks burn hot at the use of the nickname.

“Squish?” Leon questions, eyes landing on me with a quizzical smirk.

“Come eat with us, and I’ll tell you the story,” she offers, that small victorious smile still decorating her small face.

“Sure, just let me take that shower.” His back turns then, heading to his room, presumably for clothes and I walk into the kitchen to check on dinner. Nat comes in shortly after, smirk plastered on her lips, as if she knows some huge secret that I’m not aware of.

“What?” I ask, refusing to face her.

“You like him.” My eyes snap to her before changing my expression to say ‘duh’.

“I live with him. Yeah I like him.” If she knows, she’ll lord it over me for however long she can.

“No, you like like him.” Damn her and how well she knows me. I fake a laugh as I face her, leaning back against the counter, blush spreading across my cheeks unconsciously.

“It’d be a little awkward if I had a crush on my roommate, wouldn’t it?”

“Oh my god,” she starts again, jaw practically hitting the floor. “You love him.” The second sentence is whispered, and before I can even argue, she jacks the radio up, ‘Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic’ fading in as she begs me to dance with her with grabby hands in my direction, and I scoff a laugh before taking her hands, joining her in her weird movements that she calls ‘dancing’ in the middle of my kitchen, with the radio blasting, the smell of soup leaking from the crockpot, and a silly little grin on my lips. We quickly take to bobbing our heads to the beat while jumping around, yelling the lyrics a little louder than what is probably acceptable at this hour.

Both so absorbed in the dancing, we don’t notice the men looking at us with amused glances until James let’s out a snigger and I immediately freeze, eyes locked on Leon, seeing something in his gaze that I don’t think I’ve ever seen. Fondness? Admiration? Lo- No. Don’t go there. James moves forward, pulling Nat into a hug and a tender kiss, and I look on, making gagging noises behind them, until Natalie flips me the bird.

“Hey,” Leon says, deterring my attention. His arms open up, and the instinct to let them fold around me is too strong, and I rush forward, pressing my ear to his chest as he envelopes my small frame. His heart is beating faster than usual. “I missed you,” he mumbles into my hair and I find myself looking up at him, chin resting on his pecs, and it takes me a second to realize how close our faces are. The silence stretches on, seemingly like waiting on the other to do something. Anything. I could just lean in…

“I missed you too,” I admit before burying my burning cheeks back into the soft cotton of his tee shirt. “You sure you’re okay?” I mumble into his shirt. Even though it’s a clean shirt, it smells like him, pine mixed with a freshness that reminds me of citrus. He nods against my head, nose pressing into my scalp gently.

“I’m good. This one was alright,” he remarks, before silently adding, “Physically.” I lean up again, getting closer to his ear to whisper.

“Do you wanna sleep next to me tonight?” He chews on the inside of his cheek for a second before nodding, resting his head on my shoulder, arms still wrapped tightly around my shoulders. This moment feels more than intimate, arms wrapped around each other, him breathing me in while I do the same to him, but that intimacy is shattered as my sister clears her throat, a knowing grin spread across her lips as we separate, and I have to silently plead to her to keep her trap shut.

“Food’s done, cuddle bugs.” Bitch.

After a painstaking game of Settlers of Catan, which James won - due to Natalie giving him the win - James steps outside onto the balcony with Leon for a glass of whiskey and his one daily cigarette (he’s quitting) while Natalie and I perch on the couch to watch a rerun of Jeopardy. After 15 minutes or so, I head into the kitchen for glasses of sparkling cider for Natalie and myself. While pouring, I notice the porch door is open, screen closed to keep out the bugs, but their conversation is clearly audible.

“I am sorry about earlier, man.” James’ voice floats across the room. I don’t mean to eavesdrop.

“No, it’s okay. You’re protective of her. I get it.”

“Her brother was my partner. I was there when he died.” He pauses, presumably to take a drink or puff his cigarette. “He died in my arms.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I kinda feel responsible for these girls, you know? Keegan set me up with Nat long before his death, but… It’s hard to not be worried about Squish.”

“You gonna explain that nickname?”

“She sat on a caterpillar once when they spent all day looking for them. She sobbed when she realized its guts were all over her ass, and Keeg started calling her Squish shortly after that.” They laugh, and I feel my heart do a flip at the sound.

“Why can I see that perfectly in my head?” Leon snorts, tone light and teasing. I frown to myself.

“She’s got a good heart. Bit too prone to offer help when it’s not needed but, you know.”

“Oh, I do. First time we met was in January and she pressed me for answers to questions I wasn’t quite ready to deal with.”

“Sounds like Squish.” They go quiet, and for a moment, I debate booking it back into the living room, but then James speaks again and my cheeks flush at his words.

“She really cares about you, you know that?” Silence. I wish I knew if it was because of some unspoken conversation or if Leon truly just doesn’t know what to say. “She loves hard. Friendships, romance, family. Doesn’t seem to matter to her. If she loves you, she really loves you.”

“I know.” What? “God, don’t I know it. She’s one of the few things in this fucked up world that actually makes me think it’s worth it.”

“I saw you, man. I saw the way you looked at her.”

That’s my cue to leave. I stumble out into the living room, trying to rid the conversation from my mind. The boys come back in after 30ish minutes, Natalie and I dozing on the couch comfortably. Bidding them goodbye with hugs and smiles, I watch as they head out the front door before Leon clears his throat, tilting his head toward the bedrooms.

We fall asleep the same way we did the first time I let him into my bed, arms holding me against his front, his breath on my neck, and for a split second, despite his light snoring behind me, I swear his hands cup my stomach the same way James’ held Natalie’s.

Leon: @house-of-kolchek @bonnibuckets @athanasia-day @muffimtv Everything: @chaosandbubbles @kassiekolchek22 @akiramoon8088

[missiletoe]

and last one for the day - fill #4! hopefully more to come <3

Prompt: character A uses flower symbolism as a means of flirting; character B knows nothing about flowers Word Count: 1224

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Someone’s playing a cruel prank on her and frankly, Kitty’s sick of it. Sure, the first few weeks she’d understood–torn notes, stolen gym clothes, weird plants in her locker, it’s run-of-the-mill new kids treatment.

But they’re three weeks in and the flowers are still streaming in like it’s Day 1. She’s pretty sure Q is collecting the petals behind her back, even though she tells him not to.

“Some of these are rare!” he protests as he shoves them into his backpack. They’re getting crushed under the weight of all his books. “Like really, really rare!”

The first week had been camellias, according to Q. White and pink buds, delicate petals layered in a seemingly endless ring around the center. Q had swooned amidst her coughing fit.

Week 2 had brought sakurasou and a raging case of hives.

“These aren’t even native to the area,” Q had shrieked. “This is a Japanese flower–the primrose! The petals are so small… and such a pretty shade of purple!” Kitty had offered a sympathetic sniffle, her nose buried too deep in a tissue to note the delicacy.

The worst part is the allergies. Portland is a nightmare in Spring but she scrapes by with a box of Claritin and cutting her schedule in half. She only steps outside out of necessity. Having petals showered on her head every time she reaches for her textbooks is a completely different story.

And now Week 3 has brought cornflowers, if Q’s expertise is to be believed.

“They’re blue,” Kitty says, picking one up by the stem. Q yelps at her lack of delicacy. “Corn isn’t blue.”

“They have a history,” he sighs at her ignorance. “And a lengthy set of meanings too.”

“Pretty sure I don’t need a dictionary for that one,” she laughs. “This must be the Korean way of saying fuck you and get out of our school.”

Q’s responding smile is strained.

“You gonna take them again?” she asks. He shrugs guiltily in response but he’s already reaching for the stems.

“It’s a pretty shade of blue,” he says by way of explanation and Kitty shakes her head.

“If you wanna keep the creepy, stalker flowers, that’s all you. It’s like they know my schedule too because they always sneak them in when I’m at classes! Anyways, same time, next week?”

Q grins and bumps his fist against hers in response.

“Sweet Williams?” she echoes on Week 4. Q nods back violently. “Doesn’t look much like a William to me, haha!”

Her joke is received with silence because Q is on 4 hours of sleep and traded in his humor for brawns at birth.

“Okay… or not,” she finishes and tosses the bundle in his direction because she knows he’ll scoop them up off the floor anyways. He’ll probably give them to Florian too and the poor guy won’t even know they’re second-rate.

“Sweet Williams,” he echoes dully and Kitty doesn’t even know if it’s the flowers or last class’ lecture that sucked the life out of him. Professor Lee can be draining on a good day and Hades-soul-sucking-levels-of-evil on a bad one. “I think I’m starting to get it.”

“Get what?” Kitty prods but Q just stares at her blankly in response. “What’s there to get?”

He studies her in the crappy hallway lights, gaze swinging like a pendulum between her and the lockers and back to her again.

“I don’t know. I’m not really sure what there’s here to get.”

Week 5 brings honeysuckles that litter the ground when she reaches for her history textbook.

“Seriously?” she yelps, grinding one underfoot as she fishes for a pencil. “Again?!”

The sneezing starts up again just as Eunice and her posse walk by. They smother their disdain the same way that the Korean haminis do when she walks in the streets with a crop top–that is, not at all. Kitty looks up at the sky and wonders again, why her?

“It’s like they’re trying to make me look stupid,” she says and doesn’t even feel bad when her locker slams shut on a petal, tearing it in two.

“No,” Q mumbles when he thinks he’s out of earshot. “You’re definitely not the one that looks stupid here.”

There are no flowers when she opens her locker on Week 6 and she nearly cries from the relief. Finally, her anonymous-stalker-slash-creep-slash-weirdo-who-only-communicates-passive-aggressively-via-flowers has chosen to let her live in peace.

She closes her locker and nearly screams. Yuri is standing in the open gap, leaning against the wall with a flower in her hand. She’s cupping it like a candle flame, like she’s shielding Kitty from it. Or maybe shielding it from Kitty?

“Please,” she says and there’s desperation edging into her voice. She nudges the stem in her direction with a flick of her wrist.

Record scratch. Rewind. That’s a flower in her hand. That means Yuri’s been the one leaving her flowers? Yuri’s been the one leaving her hate messages, telling her to get out of her school?

“You have to know what this one means,” Yuri says and she sounds tired, like she’s been stretched out on a hanger for weeks and left out to dry.

She sighs and unfurls her hand to reveal a bright red rose behind it. Oh. Oh. 

Red roses–Kitty’s seen those ones before. In shojo mangas and chickflicks and every convenience store within a two-mile radius before Valentine’s Day.

“That’s… not an ‘I-hate-you’ flower,” she says slowly. Yuri shakes her head in response and the smile tugging on her face looks worn.

“It’s an ‘I-like-you-please-go-out-with-me’ flower, Kitty,” she replies.

“Oh.” Behind her, Q gives an awkwards two thumbs-up. He knew, she realizes belatedly. She shoots him an angry why-didn’t-you-say-something look and he gives her a half-shrug with his jaw set out in response. “Oh.”

“You don’t have to force yourself to say yes out of pity. I–”

“No!” Kitty’s always had a tendency to leap before she looks and her mouth tumbles on forwards before her mind has time to catch up. “I mean–no, I, ugh! What I’m trying to say is you’re smart and beautiful and you never have a hair out of place and you saved my tourist ass when I was stranded in the airport on that first day. And you’ve helped me carve out a space for myself at KISS and made me feel like I really might belong, even when the whole universe seemed to be telling me otherwise. I think I would’ve packed my bags and given up by now, if it wasn’t for you.” Yuri’s smile has tumbled out into a full-blown thing and Kitty sucks in a deep breath before continuing.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is that I didn’t know someone like you could like someone like me.”

“Surprise?” Yuri says. Her lips are half-hidden behind the rose but Kitty can still make out her smile.

“Are you free Saturday?” Kitty asks suddenly because she’s overcome with the urge to nail this down now, to put a ring on her finger before she can change her mind. She has six weeks to make up for and Kitty Song Covey doesn’t do things halfway. Yuri blinks at her.

“I think so?”

“Then it’s a date! I’ll bring you flowers–what’s your favorite kind?”

Yuri looks up at her shyly before she smiles.

“Catnip!”

[fairycosmos]

chloe do you have any tips on 'forcing' oneself to shower? at the moment it's extremely hard for me not only bc of my depression but my foot is also in a cast bc it's broken which makes showering even more physically taxing.... just i need to shower but can't bring myself to do it 😭

hey honestly ive been thereeeeee and am often still there it's a fucking nightmare and im so sorry you're going through it as well - i know there's a lot of weird stigma and shame around these lesser discussed aspects of depression, but it is truly a massive part of the illness and not smth to internalise or shame yourself for. i've used a few different approaches when i haven't had the motivation to shower in the past - the 1st is just breaking it down into smaller chunks. wash my face, brush my teeth the first day. then slowly build up to either stepping in the shower and letting the water stream over you for 5 minutes, or even giving yourself a sponge bath/washing ur hair over the sink so you dont have to get fully undressed and exert a ton of effort and feel overwhelmed. i think this might be the best option for u with ur foot the way it is. a little is always better than nothing. i live by that TBH. sitting down in the shower also helps me massively, makes it a quite a bit less draining TBH. i also do this thing where i set an alarm for 10 minutes and just tell myself im going to clean myself as much as possible in that time, and that i can manage it because it's only 10 minutes and then i can lay back down and breathe, and that it's not this big deal my brain is building it up to be, and even if it is and even if i cry or panic or feel like shit, it's just 10 minutes. it's also super important to have the self awareness to realise this cycle you're in where neglecting your needs makes you depressed and you're depressed because you neglect your needs (at least that's part of the reason), and learning how to stop that perpetuating by doing one small task for yourself per day is one of the only ways to break out of it. i have to say every time i shower after being in a depression pit i don't regret it, and i know it's very hard to conceptualise that right now, but it's true. another thing i often try is just counting to ten and then forcing my body to move, i literally scream at myself in my own head to ignore my thoughts and just keep moving and just get the fuck in and out of the shower without making it more than what it is, i try to focus purely on my body and being in it and not on my mind - i understand that prob wont work for everyone lol. incentivising yourself is also always a good idea - tell yourself if i manage to take a shower i can watch a show i like or go to sleep or have a nice snack or practice a hobby you enjoy or whatever you like to do. i think training ur brain to see self care as a positive / neutral thing is a vital part of trying to move beyond this. anyway sorry to ramble i think that's a summary of what i usually do but if you ever want to chat more ab this or if you need a friend just give me a message! i hope you feel better soon x